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On -faridal day. ier Ijp^ uui say, 
love . liono^ir and oiieT. 



THE 



DESERTED BRIDE 



OTHER PRODUCTIONS. 



M^ 



^o' 



GEORGE Pf'^MORKIS. 




NEW Y O R K : 
CHARLES SCRIBNER, 145 NASSAU ST. 

1853. 




jLiitereil, accoiiimg lo Act of Congress, in the year 1853, 

By CHARLES SCRIBNER, 

in (lie Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, in and for the Southern 

District of New York. 



STEREOTYPED BY C. C. SAVAGE, R. CRAIGHEAD, PRINTER, 

13 Chiunb«ra Street, N. Y. 53 Vesey St., N. Y. 



PREFACE. 



At the time the following poems were written, there 
was no intention of ever collecting them in the present 
form. Although, as anonymous productions, they have 
attracted much attention, the author deemed them of 
too fleeting a nature to be published with his name. 
Various reasons, however, which it is unnecessary to 
mention, have overruled his original objections ; and 
this work is submitted to the reader in the hope that, 
as the fragments have been well received, they will 
not be entirely unacceptable now that they are gathered 
into a volume. 



New-York, 1853. 



TO 



GEORGE ABERNETHY, 



EX-GOVEKNOE OF OREGON, 



^m ^R^n 



ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED. 



BY HIS FRIEND, 



The Author. 



CONTENTS. 



THE DESERTED BRIDE page 17 

THE MAIN-TRUCK ; OR, A LEAP FOR LIFE 21 

POETRY 24 

THE CROTON ODE 25 

FRAGMENT OF AN INDIAN POEM 29 

LAND-HOI 33 

WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE 35 

THE COTTAGER'S WELCOME 37 

LAND OF WASHINGTON 39 

THE FLAG OF OUR UNION 41 

LINES AFTER THE MANNER OF THE OLDEN TIME 43 

THE DREAM OF LOVE -...46 

I'M WITH YOU ONCE AGAIN 49 

OH, WOULD THAT SHE WERE HERE 61 

THE SWORD AND THE STAFF 53 

THE CHIEFTAIN'S DAUGHTER 65 

THY WILL BE DONE 57 

LIFE IN THE WEST 59 

SONG OF MARION'S MEN 61 

JANET More A 63 

LISETTE 65 



MY MOTHER'S BIBLE page G7 

THE DOG-STAR RAGES 69 

LEGEND OF THE MOHAWK 7t 

THE BALL-ROOM BELLE '75 

WE WERE BOYS TOGETHER 11 

OH, BOATMAlSr, HASTE 79 

FUNERAL HYMN 81 

O'ER THE MOUNTAINS 83 

WOMAN 85 

ROSABEL 87 

THY TYRANT SWAY 90 

A HERO OF THE REVOLUTION 91 

RHYME AND REASON: AN APOLOGUE 93 

STARLIGHT RECOLLECTIONS 95 

WEARIES MY LOVE OF MY LETTERS? 97 

FARE THEE WELL, LOVE 99 

THOU HAST WOVEN THE SPELL 100 

BESSIE BELL 101 

THE DAY IS NOW DAWNING, LOVE 108 

WHEN OTHER FRIENDS ARE ROUND THEE 105 

SILENT GRIEF 106 

LOVE THEE, DEAREST? 107 

A SCENE AT SEA 108 

I LOVE THE NIGHT 109 

THE MINIATURE 110 

THE RETORT Ill 

LINES ON A POET 113 

THE BACCHANAL 115 

TWENTY YEARS AGO 118 

NATIONAL ANTHEM 119 

I LOVE THEE STILL 121 



CONTEXTS. 



LOOK FR(m TRY LATTICE, LOVE page 123 

SHE LOVED HIM 125 

THE SUITORS 127 

ST. AGNES' SHRINE 129 

"WESTERN REFRAIN 131 

THE PRAIRIE ON FIRE 133 

THE EVERGREEN 136 

THE MAY-QUEEN 137 

VENETIAN SERENADE 139 

THE WHIP-POOR-WILL 141 

THE EXILE TO HIS SISTER 146 

NEAR THE LAKE WHERE DROOPED THE WILLOW 147 

THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER 149 

MARGARETTA 151 

THE COLONEL 153 

THE SWEEP'S CAROL 156 

THE SEASONS OF LOVE 157 

MY WOODLAND BRIDE 159 

OH, THINK OF ME 16o 

MY BARK IS OUT UPON THE SEA 16i 

WILL NOBODY MARRY ME? 163 

THE STAR OF LOVE I65 

WELL^A-DAY 166 

NOT MARRIED YET I67 

LADY OF ENGLAND I69 

OH, THIS LOVE lYl 

MARY 173 

THE BEAM OF DEVOTION 175 

THE WELCOME AND FAREWELL 176 

'TIS NOW THE PROMISED HOUR 177 

THE SONGS OF HOME I79 



10 



CONTENTS. 



MASONIC HYMN page 181 

THE DISMISSED 183 

LORD OF THE CASTLE 186 

THE FALLEN BRAVE 187 

SONG OF THE TROUBADOUR 189 

CHAMPIONS OF LIBERTY 191 

THE HUNTER'S CAROL 194 

WASHINGTON'S MONUMENT 195 

THE SISTER'S APPEAL 197 

SONG OF THE REAPERS 198 

WALTER GAY 199 

GROUNDS FOR DIVORCE 201 

TEMPERANCE SONG 203 

BOAT-SONG 206 

WILLIE 207 

THE ROCK OF THE PILGRIMS 210 

YEARS AGO 211 

THE SOLDIER'S WELCOME HOME 213 

THE ORIGIN OF YANKEE DOODLE 215 

LINES ON THE BURIAL OF MRS. ^LARY L. WARD 219 

NEW-YORK IN 1826 221 

THE HERO'S LEGACY 228 

WHAT CAN IT MEAN? 229 

THE STORY OF A SONG 231 

WHERE HUDSON'S WAVE 233 

AU REVOIR 235 

EPIGRAMS 236 

EPITAPH , 236 

ADDRESS FOR THE BENEFIT OF WILLIAM DUNLAP 237 

ADDRESS FOR THE BENEFIT OF J. SHERIDAN KNOWLES ... 240 
ADDRESS FOR THE BENEFIT OF HENRY PL AC IDE 243 



CONTENTS. 11 

THE MAID OF SAXONY : OR, WHO 'S THE TRAITOR ? . . . page 247 

HO! HANS! — WHY, HANS! 251 

REJOICE ! REJOICE I WE 'RE SAFE AND SOUND 252 

THE LIFE FOR ME IS A SOLDIER'S LIFE 258 

CONFUSIONl AGAIN REJECTED! 262 

WHEN I BEHOLD THAT LOWERING BROW 264 

'TIS A SOLDIER'S RIGID DUTY 267 

THE SPRING-TIME OF LOVE IS BOTH HAPPY AND GAY 269 

FROM MY FATE THERE'S NO RETREATING 275 

LADS AND LASSES TRIP AWAY 276 

ALL HAIL THE KING ! 285 

HOME 287 

SKY, STREAM, MOORLAND AND MOUNTAIN 297 

DARED THESE LIPS MY SAD STORY IMPART 300 

FIERY MARS, THY VOTARY HEAR 306 

AH! LOVE IS NOT A GARDEN-FLOWER 307 

THE KING, THE PRINCES OF THE COURT 308 

VICTORIA! VICTORIA! 311 

THIS GLOOMY CELL IS MY ABODE AT LAST 317 

HARK! 'TIS THE DEEP-TONED MIDNIGHT BELL 319 

ONCE, MILD AND GENTLE WAS MY HEART 328 

THE GENTLE BIRD ON YONDER SPRAY 326 

THAT LAW 'S THE PERFECTION OF REASON 334 

WITH MERCY LET JUSTICE 336 

WHAT OUTRAGE MORE? — AT WHOSE COMMAND 338 

THE JAVELIN FROM AN UNSEEN HAND 345 

REJOICE ! OUR LOYAL HEARTS WE BRING 346 

OUR HEARTS ARE BOUNDING WITH DELIGHT 360 

NOTES 353 

THE DESERTFJ) BRIDE 358 

THE CROTON ODE 353 



12 



C 1^ TENTS. 



NOTES (CoNnNUED) page 353 

WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE 353 

THE CHIEFTAIN'S DAUGHTER 355 

SONG OF MARION'S MEN 357 

JANET McREA 357 

THE DOG-STAR RAGES 360 

THE PRAIRIE ON FIRE S61 

THE SWEEP'S CAROL 361 

THE FALLEN BRAVE OF MEXICO 361 

THE CHAMPIONS OF LIBERTY 362 

THE SOLDIER'S WELCOME HOME 362 

THE ORIGIN OF YANKEE DOODLE 362 

NEW-YORK IN 1826 362 

THE MAID OF SAXONY 365 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS, 



DESIGNED BY WEIR. 



WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE! 

ENGRAVED BY ALFRED JONES. (To face TUle., 

""Woodman, spare that tree ! 

Touch not a single bough I 
In youth it sheltered me, 

And I '11 protect it now. 
T was my forefather's hand 

That placed it near his cot ; 
There, woodman, let it stand, 
Thy axe shall harm it not !" 

Woodman, spare that Tree, p. 36, 



LISETTE. 

/ ENGRAVED BY CHARLES BURT. (TUlepage.) 

" On bridal day, her lips did say, 
' Love, honour and obey 1' " 

Lisette, p. 66. 

^PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR. 

ENGRAVED BY CHARLES BURT, FROM A PAINTING BY HENRY INMAN. 



14 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



^ THE CROTON ODE. 

ENGRAVED BY ALFRED JONES. 

"Safety dwells in her dominions, 

Health and Beauty with her move, 
And entwine their circling pinions 
In a sisterhood of loTC." 

The Croton Ode, p. 27 

^THE CHIEFTAIN'S DAUGHTER. 

ENGRAVED BY ALFRED JONE.-^. 

'"Tis ever thus, when, in life's storm, 
Hope's star to man grows dim, 
An angel kneels in woman's form. 
And breathes a prayer for him." 

The Chieftain's Daughter, p. 66. 

~ THE DOG-STAR RAGES. 

ENGRAVED BY ALFRED JONES. 

"Had I a yacht, like Miller,. 

That skimmer of the seas — 
A whe«l rigged on a tiller, 

And a fresh gunwale breeze, 
A crew of friends well chosen, 

And all a-taunto, I 
Would sail for regions frozen — 

I'd rather freeze than fry !" 

jThe Bog-Star Rages, p. 72. 



WHEN OTHER FRIENDS. 

ENGRAVED BY ALFRED JONES. 

" When other friends are round thee. 
And other hearts are thine — 

When other Friends, p. 105. 



LISTOF ILLUSTRATIONS. 15 

' THE PEAIRIE ON FIRE. 

ENGRAVED BY CHARLES BURT. 

'Thick darkness diroud«d earth and sky — 

When on the whispering winds there came 
The Teton's shrill and thrilling cry, 

And heaven was pierced with shafts of flame ! 
The sun seemed rising through the haze, 

But with an aspect dread and dire : 
The very air appeared to blaze ! — 
O God 1 the Prairie was on fire I" 

The Prairie on Fire, p. 133. 



'TIS NOW THE PROMISED HOUR. 



ENGRAVED BY ALFRED JONES. 

'Tlien, lady, wake — in beauty rise! 

'Tis now the promised hour, 
When torches kindle in the skies 

To light thee to thy bower." 

'Tis now the Promised Hour, p. 177. 



^ ROOK OF THE PIL&RIMS. 

ENGRAVED BY ALFRED JONES. 

"Tlie Pilgrims of old an example have given 
Of mild resignation, devotion and love. 
Which beams like the star in the blue vault of heaven, 
A beacon-light swung in their mansion above." 

The Rock of the Pilgrims, p. 210. 

" The Mayflower having arrived in the harbour from Cape Cod. Mary Chilton entered 
the first landing-boat, and looking forward, exclaimed. ' I will be the first to step on that 
rock.' Accordingly, when the boat approached, Mary Chilton was permitted to be the 
first from that boat who appeared on the rock, and thus her claim was established." 

Thacher's " History of Plymouth," p. 30. 



16 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



'THE MAID OF SAXONY. 



DESIGNS BY DARLEY. 



^ FREDERICK THE GREAT. 

ENGRAVED BY CHARLES BURT. 

"What have we here?" 

Act l— Scene JV., p. 28L 

^ SOPHIA MANSFIELD. 

ENGRAVED BY CHARLES BURT. 

Act II. — Scene /, p. 286. 



^ WEDGEWOOD. 

ENGRAVED BY CHARLES BURT. 



"Silence in the court!" 

Act in. — Scene IV., p. 387. 




a ) »i^ 't^ ' 






m-j 




rz ^ 



POEMS. 



THE DESERTED BRIDE. 

SUGGESTED BY A SCENE IN THE PLAY OF THE HUNCHBACK. 

INSOBIBBD TO JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES. 
I. 

" Love me ! — N^o. — He never loved me !" 

Else he 'd sooner die than stain 
One so fond as he has proved me 

With the hollow world's disdain. 
False one, go — my doom is spoken, 
And the spell that bound me broken ! 

n. 

Wed him ! — Never. — He has lost me ! — 
Tears ! — Well, let them flow ! — His bride ? 

No. — The struggle life may cost me ! 
But he '11 find that I have pride ! 

Love is not an idle flower, 

Blooms and dies the self-same hour. 



18 THE DESERTED BRIDE. 

in. 

Title, land and broad dominion, 
"With himself to me he gave ; 

Stooped to earth his spirit's pinion. 
And became my willing slave ! 

Knelt and prayed until he won me — 

Looks he coldly now upon me ? 

IV. 

Ingrate ! — Never sure was maiden 
Deeply wronged as I. "With grief 

My true breast is overladen — 
Tears afford me no relief — 

Every nerve is strained and aching, 

And my very heart is breaking ! 

V. 

Love I him? — Thus scorned and slighted - 
Thrown, like worthless weed, aj^art — 

Hopes and feelings seared and blighted — 
Love him? — Yes, with all my heart ! 

"With a passion superhuman — 

Constancy, " thy name is woman." 

VI. 

Love, nor time, nor mood, can fashion — 
Love? — Idolatry's the word 



THE DESERTED BRIDE. 



19 



To speak the broadest, deepest passion, 

Ever woman's heart hath stirred ! 
Yain to still the mind's desires. 
Which consume like hidden fires ! 



VII. 



Wrecked and wretched, lost and lonely, 
Crushed by grief's oppressive weight, 

With a prayer for CKflford only, 
I resign me to my fate. 

Chains that bind the soul I've proven 

Strong as they were iron-woven. 

vm. 

Deep the wo that fast is sending 
From my cheek its healthful bloom ; 

Sad my thoughts as willows bending 
O'er the borders of the tomb ! 

Without Clifford, not a blessing 

In the world is worth possessing. 

IX. 

Wealth!— A straw within the balance, 
Opposed to love, 'twill strike the beam ; 

Kindred — friendship — beauty — talents ? • 
All to love as nothing seem ; 

Weigh love against all else together. 

As solid gold against a feather. 



20 



THE DESERTED BRIDE. 



X. 



Hope is flown ! — Away disguises — 
Naught but death relief can give — 

For the love he little prizes 
Cannot cease, and Julia live ! 

Soon my thread of life will sever — 

Clifford, fare thee well — for ever! 



THE MxVIN-TRUCK. 21 



THE MAm-TRUCK; OR, A LEAP FOR UFE.^ 

A NAUTICAL BALLAD. 



Old Ironsides at anchor lay, 

In the harbour of Mahon ; 
A dead calm rested on the bay — 

The waves to sleep had gone ; 
When little Jack, the captain's son, 

With gallant hardihood, 
Climbed shroud and spar — and then upon 

The main-truck rose and stood ! 

n. 

A shudder ran through every vein— 

All eyes were turned on high ! 
There stood the boy, with dizzy brain, 

Between the sea and sky ! 

* Founded upon a well-known tale from the pen of the late William 
LEaGEiT, Esq. 



22 THE MAIN-TRUCK. 

No hold had he above — below, 

Alone he stood in air ! 
At that far height none dared to go- 

No aid could reach him there. 



in. 

We gazed — but not a man could speak ! 

"With horror all aghast 
In groups, with pallid brow and cheek, 

We watched the quivering mast. 
The atmosphere grew thick and hot, 

And of a lurid hue, 
As, riveted unto the spot, 

Stood officers and crew. 



IV. 

The father came on deck ! — He gasped, 

« O God, Thy will be done !" 
Then suddenly a rifle grasped. 

And aimed it at his son ! 
" Jump, far out, boy ! into the wave ! 

Jump, or I fire !" he said : 
" That only chance your life can save ! 

Jump — jump, boy!" — He obeyed. 




V. 

He sunk— he rose— he lived— he moved— 

He for the ship struck out ! 
On board we hailed the lad beloved 

With many a manly shout. 
His father drew, in silent joy, 

Those wet arms round his neck, 
Then folded to his heart the boy, 

And fainted on the deck ! 



24 POETRY. 



POETRY. 

I. 

To me the world 's an open book 

Of sweet and pleasant poetry ; 
I read it in the running brook 

That sings its way toward the sea. 
It whispers in the leaves of trees, 

The swelling grain, the waving grass, 
And in the cool, fresh evening breeze 

That crisps the wavelets as they pass. 

n. 

The flowers below, the stars above. 

In all their bloom and brightness given, 
Are, like the attributes of love. 

The poetry of earth and heaven. 
Thus Nature's volume, read aright. 

Attunes the soul to minstrelsy, 
Tinging life's clouds with rosy light, 

And all the world with poetry. 




r^M,^^^Mif^^^^ 



THE CROTOIT ODE. 

WRITTEN AT THE BEQUEST OF THE CORPORATION OF THE 
CITY OF NEW YORK. 



Gushing from this living fountain, 

Music pours a falling strain, 
As the goddess of the mountain 

Comes with all her sparkling train. 
From her grotto-springs advancing. 

Glittering in her feathery spray, 
Woodland fays beside her dancing. 

She pursues her winding way. 

II. 

Gently o'er the rippling water, 

In her coral-shallop bright. 
Glides the rock-king's dove-eyed daughter. 

Decked in robes of virgin white. 



26 THECROTONODE. 

Nymphs and naiads, sweetly smiling, 
Urge her bark with pearly hand, 

Merrily the sylph beguiling 
From the nooks of fairy-land. 



m. 

Swimming on the snow-curled billow, 

See the river-spirits fair 
Lay their cheeks, as on a pillow, 

With the foam-beads in their hair. 
Thus attended, hither wending. 

Floats the lovely oread now, 
Eden's arch of promise bending 

Over her translucent brow. 



IV. 

Hail the wanderer from a far land ! 

Bind her flowing tresses up ! 
Crown her with a fadeless garland, 

And with crystal brim the cup ; 
From her haunts of deep seclusion. 

Let Litemperance greet her too, 
And the heat of his delusion 

Sprinkle with this mountain-dew. 



THECROTONODE. 27 

V. 

"Water leaps as if delighted, 

"While her conquered foes retire ! 
Pale Contagion flies affrighted 

"With the bafl9.ed demon Fire ! 
Safety dwells in her dominions, 

Health and Beauty with her move, 
And entwine their circling pinions 

In a sisterhood of love. 

VI. 

"Water shouts a glad hosanna ! 

Bubbles up the earth to bless ! 
Cheers it like the precious manna 

In the barren wilderness. 
Here we wondering gaze, assembled 

Like the grateful Hebrew band, 
When the hidden fountain trembled. 

And obeyed the prophet's wand. 

vn. 

Round the aqueducts of story. 

As the mists of Lethe throng, 
Croton's waves in all their glory 

Troop in melody along. 



28 THECROTONODE. 

Ever sparkling, bright, and single, 
Will this rock-ribbed stream appear, 

When posterity shall mingle 
Like the gathered waters here. 



FRAGMENT OF AN INDIAN POEM. 29 



FKAGMENT OF AN INDIAN POEM, 



W W w Vf W TT 



They come ! — Be firm — in silence rally ! 

The long-knives our retreat have found ! 
Hark! — their tramp is in the valley, 

And they hem the forest round ! 
The burdened boughs with pale scouts quiver, 

The echoing hills tumultuous ring, 
While across the eddying river 

Their barks, like foaming war-steeds, spring ! 
The bloodhounds darken land and water ; 
They come — like bufi'aloes for slaughter! 

n. 

See their glittering files advancing. 
See upon the free winds dancing 

Pennon proud and gaudy plume : 



30 FRAGMENT OF AN INDIAN POEM. 

The strangers come in evil hour, 
In pomp, and panoply, and power, 
To plant a weed where bloomed a flower, 
Where sunshine broke to spread a shower ; 
And, while upon our tribes they lower, 
Think they our manly hearts will cower 
To meet a warrior's doom ? 

m. 

Eight they forget while strength they feel ; 
Our blood they drain, our land they steal ; 
, And should the vanquished Indian kneel, 
They spurn him from their sight ! 
Be set for ever in disgrace 
The glory of the red-man's race. 
If from the foe we turn our face, 
Or safety seek in flight ! 

IV. 

They come ! — Up, and upon them, braves ! 
Eight for your altars and your graves ! 
Drive back the stern, invading slaves. 

In fight till now victorious ! 
Like lightning from storm-clouds on high, 
The hurtling, death-winged arrows fly, 
And wind-rows of pale warriors die ! — 



FRAGMENT OF AN INDIAN POEM. 31 



Oil ! never lias the sun's bright eje 
Looked from his hill-toj^s in the sky 
Upon a field so glorious ! 

******** 



V. 



They're gone— again the red-men rally; 

With dance and song the woods resound : 
The hatchet's buried in the valley ; 

No foe profanes our hunting-ground ! 
The green leaves on the blithe boughs quiver, 

The verdant hills with song-birds ring, 
"While our bark-canoes the river 

Skim like swallows on the wing. 
Mirth pervades the land and water, 
Free from famine, sword and slaughter ! 
******** 

VI. 

Let us, by this gentle river, 
Blunt the axe and break the quiver, 
While, as leaves upon the spray, 
Peaceful flow our cares away ! 
******** 

VII. 

Yet, alas ! the hour is brief 
Left for either joy or grief! 



32 FRAGMENT OF AN INDIAN POEM. 

All on earth that we inherit 
From the hands of the Great Spirit — 
Wigwam, hill, plain, lake and field — 
To the white-man must we yield ; 
For, like sun-down on the waves, 
We are sinking to our graves ! 

vm. 

From this wilderness of wo 
Like a caravan we go, 
Leaving all our groves and streams 
For the far-off land of dreams. 
There are prairies waving high, 
Boundless as the sheeted sky, 
Where our fathers' spirits roam, 
And the red-man has a home. 

IX. 

Let tradition tell our story 
As we fade in cloudless glory. 
As we seek the land of rest 
Beyond the borders of the west, 
No eye but ours may look upon — 
We are the children of the sun! 
* * ***** * 




LAND-IIO! 



^, up with the signal ! — The land is in sight ! 
We '11 be happy, if never again, boys, to-night ! 
The cold cheerless ocean in safety we 've passed, 
And the warm genial earth glads our vision at last. 
In the land of the stranger true hearts we shall find, 
To soothe us in absence of those left behind. 
Land ! — land-ho ! — All hearts glow with joy at the sight I 
"We '11 be happy, if never again, boys, to-night I 

n. 
The signal is waging/ — Till morn we'll remain, 
Then part in the hope to meet one day again 
Round the hearth-stone of home in the land of our birth, 
The holiest spot on the face of the earth ! 
Dear country ! our thoughts are as constant to thee 
As the steel to the star, or the stream to the sea. 
Ho ! —land-ho ! — We near it ! — We bound at the sight ! 
Then be happy, if never again, boys, to-night ! 



34: LAND-HO! 



I 



m. 
The signal is answered/ — The foam-sparkles rise 
Like tears from the fountain of joy to the eyes! 
May rain-drops that fall from the storm-clouds of care, 
Melt away in the sun-beaming smiles of the fair I 
One health, as chime gayly the nautical bells : 
To woman — God bless her! — wherever she dwells! 
The pilot's on boakd! — and, thank Heaven, all's right! 
So be happy, if never again, boys, to-night ! 



WOODMAISr, SPAEE THAT TREE! 

I. 

"Woodman, spare that tree ! 

Touch not a single bough ! 
In youth it sheltered me, 

And I '11 protect it now. 
Twas my forefather's hand 

That placed it near his cot ; 
There, woodman, let it stand, 

Thy axe shall harm it not ! 

n. 

That old familiar tree, 

Whose glory and renown 
Are spread o'er land and sea — 

And wouldst thou hew it down ? 
Woodman, forbear thy stroke ! 

Cut not its earth-bound ties ; 
Oh, spare that aged oak, 

Now towering to the skies ! 



S6 WOOD MAX, SPARE THAT TREE! 

m. 
"When but an idle boj, 

I sought its grateful shade ; 
In all their gushing joy 

Here, too, my sisters played. 
My mother kissed me here ; 

My father pressed my hand — 
Forgive this foolish tear, 

But let that old oak stand ! 

IV. 

My heart-strings round thee cling. 

Close as thy bark, old fi-iend ! 
Here shall the wild-bird sing, 

And still thy branches bend. 
Old tree ! the storm still brave ! 

And, woodman, leave the spot ; 
While I 've a hand to save, 

Thy axe shall harm it not ! 



THE COTTAGER'S WELCOME. 37 



THE COTTAGEK'S WELCOME. 

I. 
Hard by I've a cottage that stands near the wood- 

A stream glides in peace at the door — 
Where all who will tarry, 'tis well understood, 

Receive hospitality's store. 
To cheer that the brook and the thicket afford. 

The stranger we ever invite : 
You're welcome to freely partake at the board,. 

And afterward rest for the night. 

n. 
The birds in the morning will sing from the trees, 

And herald the young god of day ; 
Then, with him uprising, depart if you please — 

We '11 set you refreshed on the way : 
Tour coin for our service we sternly reject ; 

No traffic for gain we pursue, 
And all the reward that we wish or expect. 

We take in the good that we do. 



38 THE COTTAGER'S WELCOME. 



in. 

Mankind are all pilgrims on life's weary road, 

And many would wander astray 
In seeking Eternity's silent abode, 

Did Mercy not point out the way ! 
If all would their duty discharge as they should 

To those who arc friendless and poor. 
The world would resemble my cot near the wood, 

And life the sweet stream at my door. 



THE LAND OF WASHINGTON. 39 



THE LAND OF WASHINGTON. 



I GLORY in the sages 

"Wlio, in the days of yore, 
Li combat met the foemen, 

And drove them from our shore ; 
"Who flung our banner's starry field 

In triumph to the breeze, 
And spread broad maps of cities where 

Once waved the forest-trees. 
— Hurrah ! — 

n. 

I glory in the spirit 

"Which goaded them to rise 
And found a mighty nation 

Beneath the western skies. 



40 THE LAND OF WASHINGTON". 

No clime so bright and beautiful 
As that where sets the sun ; 

No land so fertile, fair, and free, 
As that of "Washington. 
— Hurrah ! — 



THEFLAGOFOURUIS'ION. 41 



THE FLAG OF OUR UNION. 



"A SONG for our banner?" — The watchword recall 

Which gave the Republic her station : 
" United we stand — divided we fall !" — 

It made and preserves us a nation ! 
The union of lakes — the union of lands — 

The union of states none can sever — 
The union of hearts — the union of hands — 

And the Flag of the Union for ever 



And ever ! 
The Flag of our Union for ever ! 



II. 



What God in His mercy and wisdom designed, 
And armed with His weapons of thunder, 

Not all the earth's despots and factions combined 
Have the power to conquer or sunder ! 



4* 




The union of lakes — the union of lands — 
The union of states none can sever — 

The union of hearts — the union of hands— 
And the Flag of the Union for ever 

And ever ! 
The Flag of our Union for ever ! 



LINES. 43 



LINES 

AFTER THE MANNER OF THE OLDEN TIME. 
I. 

O Love ! the miscliief thou hast done 1 
Thou god of pleasure and of pain ! — 

None can escape thee — yes, there's one — 
All others find the efibrt vain : 

Thou cause of all my smiles and tears ! 

Thou blight and bloom of all my years ! 

n. 
Love bathes him in the morning dews 

Reclines him in the lily-bells, 
Reposes in the rainbow hues. 

And sparkles in the crystal wells, 
Or hies him to the coral-caves, 
"Where sea-nymphs sport beneath the waves. 

in. 
Love vibrates in the wind-harp's tune — 
With fays and oreads lingers he — 



44 LINES. 

Gleams in th' ring of the watery moon, 

Or treads the pebbles of the sea. 
Love rules " the court, the camp, the grove"- 
Oh, everywhere we meet thee. Love ! 

IV. 

And everywhere he welcome finds, 
From cottage-door to palace-porch — 

Love enters free as spicy winds, 

"With purple wings and lighted torch, 

With tripping feet and silvery tongue. 

And bow and darts behind him slung. 



He tinkles in the shepherd's bell 
The village maiden leans to hear — 

By lattice high he weaves his spell. 
For lady fair and cavalier : 

Like sun-bursts on the mountain snow. 

Love's genial warmth melts high and low. 

VT. 

Then why, ye nymphs Arcadian, why — 
Since Love is general as the air — 

"Why does he not to Lelia fly, 
And soften that obdurate fair ? 



LINES. 4-6 

Scorn nerves her proud, disdainful heart ! 
She scoffs at Love and all his art ! 

vn. 

Oh, boy-god, Love! — An archer thou? — 

Thy utmost skill I fain would test ; 
One arrow aim at Lelia now, 

And let thy target be her breast ! 
Her heart bind in thy captive train, 
Or give me back my own again ! 



46 THEDREAMOFLOVE. 



THE DREAM OF LOVE. 



I Ve had the heart-aclie many times, 

At the mere mention of a name 
I 've never woven in my rhymes, 

Though from it inspiration came. 
It is in truth a holy thing, 

Life-cherished from the world apart — 
A dove that never tries its wing. 

But broods and nestles in the heart. 

n. 

That name of melody recalls 

Her gentle look and winning ways 
Whose portrait hangs on Memory's walls, 

In the fond light of other days. 
In the dream-land of Poetry, 

Eeclining in its leafy bowers. 
Her bright eyes in the stars I see, 

And her sweet semblance in the flowers. 



THE DREAM OF LOVE. 47 



HI. 

Her artless dalliance and grace 

The joy tliat lighted up her brow— 
The sweet expression of her face 

Her form — it stands before me now! 
And I can fancy that I liear 

Tlie woodland songs she used to sing, 
Which stole to my attending ear, 

Lite the first harbingers of spring. 



IV. 



The beauty of the earth was hers, 

And hers the purity of heaven ; 
AJone, of all her worshippers, 

To me her maiden vows were given. 
They little know the human heart, 

Wlio think such love with time expires ; 
Once kindled, it will ne'er depart, 

But burn through life with all its fires. 



V. 



"We parted— doomed no more to meet— 
The blow fell with a stunning power — 

And yet my pulse will strangely beat 
At the remembrance of that hour ! 



48 THEDREAMOFLOVE. 

But time and change their healing brought. 
And years have passed in seeming glee, 

But still alone of her I 've thought 
Who 's now a memory to me. 

VI. 

There may be many who will deem 

This strain a wayward, youthful folly, 
To be derided as a dream 

Born of the poet's melancholy. 
The wealth of worlds, if it were mine, 

With all that follows in its train, 
I would with gratitude resign. 

To dream that dream of love again ! 




I'M WITH YOU ONCE AGAIN. 



I 'm with you once again, my friends, 

No more my footsteps roam ; 
Where it began my journey ends, 

Amid the scenes of home. 
No other clime has skies so blue, 

Or streams so broad and clear, 
And where are hearts so warm and true 

As those that meet me here ? 

n. 

Since last, with spirits wild and free, 

I pressed my native strand, 
I 've wandered many miles at sea, 

And many miles on land. 
I 've seen fair realms of the earth 

By rude commotion torn, 
Which taught me how to prize the worth 

Of that where I was born. 



50 I'M WITH YOU ONCE AGAIN. 



III. 

In other countries, when I heard 

The language of my own, 
How fondly each familiar word 

Awoke an answering tone ! 
But when our woodland songs were sung 

Upon a foreign mart, 
The vows that faltered on the tongue 

With rapture thrilled the heart ! 

My native land, I turn to you, 

With blessing and with prayer, 
Where man is brave and woman true. 

And free as mountain air. 
Long may our flag in triumph wave 

Against the world combined. 
And friends a welcome — foes a grave, 

Within our borders find. 



on, WOULD THAT SHE WERE HER El 51 



OH, WOULD THAT SHE WERE HERE! 

I. 

Oh, would that she were here, 

These hills and dales among, 
Where vocal groves are gayly mocked 

By Echo's airy tongue : 
Where jocund Nature smiles 

In all her boon attire. 
And roams the deeply-tangled wilds 

Of hawthorn and sweet-brier. 
Oh, would that she were — 

The gentle maid I sing. 
Whose voice is cheerful as the songs 

Of forest-birds in spring ! 

n. 

Oh, would that she were here, 

Where the free waters leap, 
Shouting in sportive joyousness 

Adown the rocky steep : 



52 OH, WOULD THAT SHE WERE HERE! 

Where zephyrs crisp and cool 

The fountains as they play, 
With health upon their wings of light, 

And gladness in their way. 
Oh, would that she were here. 

With these balm-breathing trees, 
The sylvan daughters of the sun, 

The rain-cloud, and the breeze ! 



III. 



Oh, would that she were here. 

Where glide the rosy hours, 
Murm'ring the drowsy 1mm of bees, 

And fragrant with the flowers : 
Where Heaven's redeeming love 

Spans earth in Mercy's bow — 
The promise of the world above 

Unto the world below. 
Oh, would that she were here. 

Amid these shades serene — 
Oh, for the spell of woman's love, 

To consecrate the scene ! 



THE SWORD AND THE STAFF. 53 



THE SWOKD AND THE STAFF. 

I. 

The sword of the hero ! 

The staff of the sage ! 
"Whose valour and wisdom 

Are stamped on the age ! 
Time-hallowed mementos 

Of those who have riven 
The sceptre from tyrants, 

" The lightning from heaven !" 

n. 

This weapon, O Freedom I 

Was drawn by thy son, 
And it never was sheathed 

Till the battle was won ! 
No stain of dishonour 

Upon it we see ! 
'Twas never surrendered — 

Except to the free I 



54 THE SWORD AND THE STAFF. 

m. 

While Fame claims tlie hero 

And patriot sage, 
Their names to emblazon 

On history's page, 
Ko holier relics 

Will Liberty hoard 
Than Fkanklin's staff, guarded 

By Washington's sword. 




F, Halpin, 



THE CHIEFTAIN'S DAUGHTEK. 

I. 

Upon the barren sand 

A single captive stood ; 
Around him came, with bow and brand, 

The red-men of the wood. 
Like him of old, his doom he hears, 

Eock-bound on ocean's rim : 
The chieftain's daughter knelt in tears, 

And breathed a prayer for him. 

n. 
Above his head in air 

The savage war-club swung : 
The frantic girl, in wild despair. 

Her arras about him flung. 
Then shook the warriors of the shade, 

Like leaves on aspen-limb — 
Subdued by that heroic maid 

"Who breathed a prayer for him. 



56 THE CHIEFTAIN'S DAUGHTER. 

in. 
" Unbind him !" gasped the chief — 

" Obey your king's decree !" 
He kissed away her tears of grief, 

And set the captive free. 
'Tis ever thus, when, in life's storm, 

Hope's star to man grows dim, 
An angel kneels in woman's form, 

And breathes a prayer for him. 



THY WILL BE DONE. 67 



THY WILL BE DONE. 

I. 

Seaechek of Hearts! — from mine erase 
All thouglits that should not be, 

And in its dee^) recesses trace 
My gratitude to Thee ! 

n. 

Hearer of Prayer ! ^- oh, guide aright 
Each word and deed of mine ; 

Life's battle teach me how to fight, 
And be the victory Thine. 

m. 

Giver of All! — for every good 

In the Redeemer came — 
For raiment, shelter and for food, 

I thank Thee in His name. 



58 THYWILLBEDONE. 

IV. 

Father and Son and Holy Ghost ! 

Thou glorious Three in One ! 
Thou knowest best what I need most, 

And let Thy will be done. 



L I F E I N T H E W E S T. 59 



LIFE IN THE WEST. 



IIo! brothers — come hither and list to my story — 

Merry and brief will the narrative be : 
Here, like a monarch, I reign in my glory — 

Master am I, boys, of all that I see ! 
Where once frowned a forest, a garden is smiling — 

The meadow and moorland are marslies no more ; 
And there curls the smoke of my cottage, beguiling 

The children who cluster like grapes round my door. 
Then enter, boys ; cheerly, boys, enter and rest ; 
The land of the heart is the land of the West ! 
Oho, boys ! — oho, boys ! — oho ! 

n. 

Talk not of the town, boys — give me the broad prairie. 
Where man, like the wind, roams impulsive and free 

Behold how its beautiful colours all vary. 

Like those of the clouds, or the deep-rolling sea ! 



60 LIFEINTHEWEST. 

A life in the woods, boys, is even as clianging ; 

"With proud independence we season our cheer, 
And those who the world are for happiness ranging, 

"Won't find It at all if they don't find it here. 
Then enter, boys ; cheerly, boys, enter and rest; 
I '11 show you the life, boys, we live in the West ! 
Oho, boys ! — oho, boys ! — oho ! 

in. 

Here, brothers, secure from all turmoil and danger, 

We reap what we sow, for the soil is our own ; 
We spread hospitality's board for the stranger, 

And care not a jot for the king on his throne. 
We never know want, for we live by our labour, 

And in it contentment and happiness find ; 
We do what we can for a friend or a neighbour. 

And die, boys, in peace and good-will to mankind. 
Then enter, boys ; cheerly, boys, enter and rest ; 
You know how we live, boys, and die in the West ! 
Oho, boys ! — oho, boys ! — oho ! 



SONG OF MARION'S MEN. 61 



SONG OF MAKION'S MEN. 



In the ranks of Marion's band. 
Through morass and wooded land. 
Over beach of yellow sand, 

Mountain, plain and valley, 
A southern maid, in all her pride, 
Marched gayly at her lover's side. 
In such disguise 
That e'en his eyes 
Did not discover Sallie ! 

n. 

When returned from midnight tramp, 
Through the forest dark and damp. 
On his straw-couch in the camp, 
In his dreams he 'd dally 



62 



SONG OF MARION'S MEN. 



With that devoted, gentle fair, 
Whose large black eyes and flowing hair 
So near him seem. 
That, in his dream. 
He breathes his love for Sallie ! 



m. 

Oh, what joy that maiden knew, 
When she found her lover true ! — 
Suddenly the trumpet blew, 
Marion's men to rally ! 
To ward the death-spear from his side 
In battle by Santee she died ! — 
Where sings the surge 
A ceaseless dirge 
Near tlic lone grave of Sallie. 



JANET McREA. 63 



JAXET McIlEA. 



She heard the fight was over, 

And won the wreath of fame ! 
When tidings from her lover, 

With his good war-steed came : 
To guard lier safely to his tent, 
The red-men of the woods were sent. 

They led her where sweet waters gush 
Under the pine-tree bongh ! 

The tomahawk is raised to crush — 
'Tis buried in her brow ! 
She sleeps beneath that pine-tree now I 

n. 

Her broken-hearted lover 

In hopeless conflict died ! 
The forest-leaves now cover 

Tliat soldier and liis bride ! 



64 JANET Mc RE A. 

The frown of the Great Spirit fell 
Upon the red-men like a spell ! 

'No more those waters slake their thirst, 
Shadeless to them that tree ! 

O'er land and lake thej roam accurst. 
And in the clouds they see 
Thy spirit, unavenged, McEea ! 



LTSETTE. 65 



LISETTE. 



Young Love in myrtle shades reposed, 
His bow and darts behind him slung ; 

As dewy twilight round him closed, 
Lisette these numbers sung : 

" O Love ! thy sylvan bower 

I'll fly while I've the power; 

Thy primrose way leads maids where they 

Love, honour and obey !" 

n. 

" Escape," the boy-god said, " is vain !" 
And shook the diamonds from his wings : 

"I'll bind thee captive in my train, 
Fairest of earthly things !" 

" Go, saucy archer, go ! 

I freedom's value know : 

Begone, I pray — to none I '11 say 

Love, honour and obey !" 



QQ LISETTE. 

III. 

"Speed, arrow, to tliy mark!" lie cried 

Swift as a ray of liglit it flew ! 
Love spread liis purple pinions wide, 

And faded from her view ! 
Joy filled that maiden's eyes — 
Twin load-stars from the skies ! — 
On bridal day, her lips did say, 
" Love, honour and obey !" 



M Y .MOTHER'S B I B L E. 67 



MY MOTHER'S BIBLE. 

I. 

This book is all that 's left me now ! — 

Tears will unbidden start — 
With faltering lip and throbbing brow 

I press it to my heart. 
For many generations past, 

Here is our family tree ; 
My mother's hands this Bible clasped ; 

She, dying, gave it me. 

n. 

Ah ! well do I remember those 

Whose names these records bear ; 
Who round the hearth-stone used to close 

After the evening prayer, 
And speak of what these pages said, 

In tones my heart would thrill ! 
Though they are with the silent dead, 

Here are they living still ! 



68 MY MOTHER'S BIBLE, 

III. 

My father read this holy book 

To brothers, sisters dear ; 
How calm was my poor mother's look 

Who leaned God's word to hear 1 
Her angel-face — I see it yet! 

What thronging memories come ! — 
Again that little group is met 

Within the halls of home ! 

rv. 
Thou truest friend man ever knew, 

Thy constancy I've tried: 
When all were false I found thee true, 

My counsellor and guide. 
The mines of earth no treasures give 

That could this volume buy : 
In teaching me the way to live, 

It taught me how to die. 



'THE DOG-STAR RAGES." 69 



THE DOG-STAR EAGES." 

I. 
Unseal the city fountains, 

And let the waters flow 
In coolness from the mountains 

Unto the plains below, 
Mj brain is parched and erring, 

The pavement hot and dry, 
And not a breath is stirring 

Beneath the burning sky. 

ir. 
The belles have all departed — 

There does not linger one ! 
Of course the mart's deserted 

By every mother's son, 
Except th'e street musician, 

And men of lesser note, 
Whose only earthly mission 

Is but to toil and vote. 



70 "THE DOG-STAR RAGES," 

ni. 

A woman — blessings on her! — 

Beneath my window see ; 
She's singing — what an honour! — 

" Oh ! "Woodman, spare that tree !" 
Her "man" the air is killing — 

His organ 's out of tune — 
They 're gone, with my last shilling, 

To Florence's saloon. 

IV. 

Kew-York is most compactly 

Of brick and mortar made — 
Thermometer exactly 

One hundred in the shade ! 
A furnace would be safer 

Than this my letter-room, 
Where gleams the sun, a wafer 

About to seal my doom. 

V. 

The town looks like an ogre, 
The country like a bride ; 

Wealth hies to Saratoga, 
And Woi'th to Sunny-side. 



" T II E D G - S T A R R A G E S." Yl 

AVliile Fashion seeks the islands 

Encircled by the sea, 
Taste finds the Hudson highlands 

More beautiful and free. 



VI. 

The omnibuses rumble 

Along their cobbled way — 
The " twelve inside" more humble 

Than he who takes the pay ; 
From morn till midnight stealing, 

His horses come and go — 
The only creatures feeling 

The " luxury of wo !" 

vn. 

We editors of papers, 

"Who coin our brains for bread 
By solitary tapers 

AVhile others doze in bed. 
Have tasks as sad and lonely, 

However wrong or right, 
But with this difference only, 

The horses rest at night. 




VIII. 

From twelve to nearly fifty 

I've toiled and idled not, 
And, though accounted thrifty, 

I 'm scarcely worth a groat ; 
However, I inherit 

What few have ever gained — 
A bright and cheerful spirit 

That never has complained. 



IX. 



A stillness and a sadness 

Pervade the City Hall, 
And speculating madness 

Has left the street of Wall ; 
The Union Square looks really 

Both desolate and dark. 
And that's the case, or nearly, 

From Battery to Park. 



Had I a yacht, like Miller, 
That skimmer of the seas — 

A wheel rigged on a tiller. 
And a fresh gunwale breeze, 



A crew of friends well chosen, 

And all a-taunto, I 
Would sail for regions frozen — 

I 'd rather freeze than fry. 

XI. 

Oh, this confounded weather ! 

(As some one sung or said,) 
Mj pen, though but a feather, 

Is heavier than lead ; 
At every pore I'm oozing — 

(I'm " caving in" to-day) — 
My plumptitude I 'm losing, 

And dripping fast away. 

XII. 

I'm weeping like the willow 

That droops in leaf and bough - 
Let Croton's sparkling billow 

Flow through the city now ; 
And, as becomes her station, 

The muse will close her prayer ; 
God save the Corporation ! 

Long live the valiant Mayor ! 



74 A L E G E N D O F T H E M H A W K. 



A LEGEND OF THE MOHAWK. 



In the days that are gone, by this sweet-flowing water, 
Two lovers reclined in the shade of a tree ; 

She was the mountain-king's rosy-lipped daughter, 
The brave warrior-chief of the valley was he. 

Then all things around them, below and above, 

Were basking as now in the sunshine of love — 
In the days that are gone, by this sweet-flowing stream. 

n. 

In the days that are gone they were laid 'neath the willow, 
The maid in her beauty, the youth in his pride ; 

Both slain by the foeman who crossed the dark billow, 
And stole the broad lands where their children reside : 

Whose fathers, when dying, in fear looked above. 

And trembled to think of that chief and his love. 

In the days that are gone, by this sweet-flowing stream. 



THE BALL-ROOM BELLE. V5 



THE BxVLL-ROOM BELLE, 



The moon and all her starry train 

Were fading from tlie morning sky, 
When home the ball-room belle again 
Returned, with throbbing pulse and brain, 
Flushed cheek and tearful eye. 

n. 

The plume that dancea above her brow, 

The gem that sparkled in her zone. 
The scarf of spangled leaf and bough, 
Were laid aside — they mocked her now, 
When desolate and lone. 



in. 

That night how many hearts she won ! 
The reigning belle, she could not stir. 



76 THE BALL-ROOM BELLE. 

But, like the planets round the sun, 
Her suitors followed — all but one — 
One all the world to her ! 

IV. 

And she had lost him ! — Marvel not 

That lady's eyes with tears were wet ! 
Though love by man is soon forgot. 
It never yet was woman's lot 
To love and to forget. 



WE WERE BOYS T G E T II ]] R. 77 



WE WERE BOYS TOGETHER. 

I. 

We were boys together, 

And never can forget 
The school-house near the heather, 

In childhood where we met ; 
The humble home to memory dear, 

Its sorrows and its joys ; 
Where woke the transient smile or tear, 

When you and I were boys. 

n. 

We were youths together, 

And castles built in air. 
Your heart was like a feather, 

And mine weighed down with care ; 
To you came wealth with manhood's prime. 

To me it brought alloys — 
Foreshadowed in the primrose time, 

When you and I were boys. 



78 WE WERE BOYS TOGETHER. 

III. 

We're old men together — 

The friends we loved of yore, 
With leaves of autumn weather, 

Are gone for evermore. 
How blest to age the impulse given. 

The hope time ne'er destroys — 
Which led our thoughts from earth to heaven, 

When you and I were boys ! 



OH, BOATMAN, HASTE! 79 



OH, BOATMAN, HASTE! 

TWILIGHT. 

Oh, boatman, haste! — The twilight hour 

Is closing gently o'er the lea ! 
Tlie sun, whose setting shuts the flower. 
Has looked his last upon the sea ! 

Row, then, boatman, row ! 

Row, then, boatman, row ! 
Row ! — aha ! — we 've moon and star ! 
And our skiff with the stream is flowing. 

Heigh-ho ! — ah ! — heigh-ho ! — 

Echo responds to my sad heigh-ho ! 



MIDNIGHT. 

Oh, boatman, haste! — The sentry calls 
The midnight hour on yonder shore, 

And silvery sweet the echo falls 

As music dripping from the oar! 



80 OH, BOATMAN, HASTEI 

Row, then, boatman, row ! 

Row, then, boatman, row I 
Row ! — afar fade moon and star ! 
While our skiff with the stream is flowing ! 

Heigh-ho ! — ah ! — heigh-ho ! — 

Echo responds to my sad heigh-ho ! 

DAWN. 

Oh, boatman, haste! — The morning beam 

Glides through the fleecy clouds above 
So breaks on life's dark, murm'ring stream. 
The rosy dawn of woman's love ! 

Row, then, boatman, row ! 

Row, then, boatman, row ! 
Row ! — 'T is day ! — away — away ! 
To land with the stream we are flowing ! 

Heigh-ho ! — dear one — ho ! 

Beauty responds to my glad heigh-ho ! 



FUNERAL HYMN. 81 



FUNERAL HYMN. 

I. 

" Man dieth and wasteth away. 

And where is he ?" — Hark ! from the skies 
I hear a voice answer and say, 

" The spirit of man never dies : 
His body, which came from the earth. 

Must mingle again with the sod ; 
But his soul, which in heaven had birth, 

Returns to the bosom of God," 

n. 

No terror has death, or the grave, 

To those who believe in the Lord — 
"We know the Redeemer can save, 

And lean on the faith of his word ; 
While ashes to ashes, and dust 

We give unto dust, in our gloom, 
The light of salvation, we trust, 

Is hung like «■ lamp in the tomb. 



82 FUNERAL HYMN. 

III. 

The sky will be burnt as a scroll — 

Tlie earth, wrapped in flames, will expire ; 
But, freed from all shackles, the soul 

Will rise in the midst of the fire. 
Then, brothers, mourn not for the dead, 

Who rest from their labours, forgiven : 
Learn this from your Bible instead. 

The grave is the gateway to heaven. 

rv. 
O Lord God Almighty ! to Thee 

We turn as our solace above ; 
The waters may fail from the sea, 

But not from Thy fountains of love : 
Oh, teach us Thy will to obey. 

And sing with one heart and accord, 
" He gave and He taketh away. 

And praised be the name of the Lord !" 



O'ER THE MOUNTAINS. 83 



O'ER THE MOUNTAINS. 

I. 

Some spirit wafts our mountain lay — 

Hili ho ! boys, hili lio ! 
To distant groves and glens away ! 

Hili lio ! boys, hili ho ! 
E'en so the tide of empire flows — 

Ho ! boys, hili ho ! 
Rejoicing as it westward goes ! 
Ho ! boys, hili ho ! 
To refresh our weary way, 

Gush the crystal fountains, 
As a pilgrim band we stray 
Cheerly o'er the mountains. 

n. 

The woodland rings with song and shout ! 

Hili ho ! boys, hili ho ! 
As though a fairy hunt were out ! 

Hili ho ! boys, hili ho ! 



84 O'ER THE MOUNTAINS. 

E'en so the voice of woman cheers — 

Ho ! boys, hili ho 1 
The hearts of hardy mountaineers ! 
Ho ! boys, hili ho ! 
Like the glow of northern skies, 

Mirrored in the fountains, 
Beams the love-light of fond eyes. 
As we cross the mountains. 



WOMAN. 85 



WOMAN. 



Ah, woman ! — in this world of ours, 
What boon can be compared to thee ? — 

How slow would drag life's weary hours, 

Though man's proud brow were bound with flowers, 
And his the wealth of land and sea, 

If destined to exist alone, 

And ne'er call woman's heart his own ! 

n. 

My mother! — At that holy name, 

Within my bosom there 's a gush 
Of feeling, which no time can tame — 
A feeling, which, for years of fame, 

I would not, could not, crush ! 
And sisters ! — ye are dear as life ; 
But when I look upon my wife. 

My heart-blood gives a sudden rush. 



And all my fond affections blend 

In mother — sisters — wife and friend! 

in. 

Yes, woman's love is free from guile, 

And pure as bright Aurora's ray ; 
The heart will melt before her smile. 

And base-born passions fade away ! 
Were I the monarch of the earth. 

Or master of the swelling sea, 
I would not estimate their worth, 

Dear woman, half the price of thee. 



ROSABEL. 87 



EOSABEL. 

I. 

I MISS thee from my side, beloved, 

I miss thee from my side ; 
And wearily and drearily 

Flows Time's resistless tide. 
The world, and all its fleeting joys, 

To me are worse than vain, 
Until I clasp thee to my heart, 

Beloved one, again. 

n. 

The wildwood and the forest-path. 

We used to thread of yore, 
"What bird and bee have flown with thee, 

And gone for evermore ! 
There is no music in the grove, 

No echo on the hill ; 
But melancholy boughs are there — 

And hushed the whip-poor-will. 



88 ROSABEL. 



in. 
I miss thee in the town, beloved, 

I miss thee in the town ; 
From mom I grieve till dewy eve 

Spreads wide its mantle brown. 
My spirit's wings, that once could soar 

In Fancy's world of air. 
Are crushed and beaten to the ground 

By life-corroding care. 

rv. 

!N"o more I hear thy thrilling voice, 

Nor see thy winning face ; 
That once would gleam like morning's beam. 

In mental pride and grace : 
Thy form of matchless symmetry. 

In sweet perfection cast — 
Is now the star of memory 

That fades not with the past. 

V. 

I miss thee everywhere, beloved, 

I miss thee everywhere ; 
Both night and day wear dull away, 

And leave me in despair. 



ROSABEL. 89 



The banquet-hall, the play, the ball, 
And childhood's sportive glee, 

Have lost their spell for me, beloved, 
My soul is full of thee ! 

VI. 

Has Rosabel forgotten me, 

And love I now in vain ? 
If that be so, my heart can know 

No rest on earth again. 
A sad and weary lot is mine. 

To love and be forgot ; 
A sad and weary lot, beloved — 

A sad and weary lot ! 



8* 



90 THY TYRANT SWAY. 



THY TYRANT SWAY. 



The heart that owns thy tyrant sway, 
Whate'er its hopes may be. 

Is like a bark that drifts away 
Upon a shoreless sea ! 

No compass left to guide her on, 

Upon the surge she's tempest-torn — 
And such is life to me ! 

n. 

And what is life when love is fled ? 

The world, unshared by thee ? 
I 'd rather slumber with the dead, 

Than such a waif to be ! 
The bark that by no compass steers 
Is lost, which way soe'er she veers — 

And such is life to me ! 



A HERO OF THE REVOLUTION. 91 



A HERO OF THE EEYOLUTION. 



Let not a tear be shed ! 

Of grief give not a token, 
Although the silver thread 

And golden bowl be broken ! 
A warrior lived — a Christian died! 
Sorrow 's forgotten in our pride I 



n. 

Go, bring his battle-blade. 

His helmet and his plume ! 
And be his trophies laid 

Beside him in the tomb. 
Where files of time-marked veterans come 
With martial tramp and muffled drum ! 



92 A HERO OF THE REVOLUTION. 



m. 

Give to the earth his frame, 

To moulder and decay ; 
But not his deathless name — 

That cannot pass away ! 
In youth, in manhood, and in age, 
He dignified his country's page ! 

IV. 

Green he the willow-bough 
Above the swelling mound, 

Where sleeps the hero now 
In consecrated ground : 

Thy epitaph, O Delavan ! 

God's noblest work — an honest man! 



RHYME AND REASON. 93 



HHYME AND REASON. 



AN APOLOGUE. 



Two children of the olden time, 

In Flora's primrose season, 
"Were born. The name of one was Rhyme, 

That of the other Reason. 
And both were beautiful and fair, 
And pure as mountain stream and air. 

n. 

As the boys together grew, 

Happy fled their hours — 
Grief or care they never knew 

In the Paphian bowers. 
See them roaming, hand in hand. 
The pride of all the choral band ! 



94 RHYME AND REASON. 

in. 

Music with harp of golden strings, 
Love with bow and quiver, 

Airy sprites on radiant wings. 
Nymphs of wood and river, 

Joined the Muses' constant song, 

As Rhyme and Reason passed along. 

rv. 

But the scene was changed — the boys 

Left their native soil — 
Rhyme's pursuit was idle joys, 

Reason's manly toil : 
Soon Rhyme was starving in a ditch, 
"While Reason grew exceeding rich. 

V. 

Since the darl^ and fatal hour. 
When the brothers parted. 

Reason has had wealth and power — 
Rhyme 's poor and broken-hearted ! 

And now, or bright or stormy weather. 

They twain are seldom seen together. 



STARLIGHT RECOLLECTIONS, 95 



STAHLiaHT RECOLLECTIONS. 



'TwAs night. Near the murmuring Saone, 

We met with no witnesses by, 
But such as resplendently shone 

In the blue-tinted vault of the sky : 
Your head on my bosom was laid, 

As you said you would ever be mine ; 
And I promised to love, dearest maid, 

And worship alone at your shrine. 

n. 
Your love on my heart gently fell 

As the dew on the flowers at eve, 
Whose bosoms with gratitude swell, 

A blessing to give and receive : 
And I knew by the glow on your cheek, 

And the rapture you could not control, 
No power had language to speak 

The faith or content of your soul. 



96 STARLIGHT RECOLLECTIONS. 

in. 
I love you as none ever loved — 

As the steel to the star I am true ; 
And I, dearest maiden, have proved 

Tliat none ever loved me but you. 
Till Memory loses her power, 

Or the sands of my being have run, 
I'll remember the star-lighted hour 

That mingled two hearts into one. 



WEAEIES MY LOYE? 

I. 

Wearies my love of my letters ? 

Does she my silence command ? 
Sunders she Love's rosy fetters 

As though they were woven of sand ? 
Tires she too of each token 

Indited with many a sigh ? 
Are all her promises broken? 

And must I love on till I die ? 

II. 
Thinks my dear love that I blame her 

With what was a burden to part? 
Ah, no! — with affection I'll name her 

While lingers a pulse in my heart. 
Although she has clouded with sadness, 

And blighted the bloom of my years, 
I love her still, even to madness. 

And bless her through showers of tears ! 



98 WEARIES MY LOVE? 

III. 

My pen I have laid down in sorrow, 

The songs of my lute I forego ; 
From neither assistance I '11 borrow 

To utter my heart-seated wo ! 
But peace to her bosom, wherever 

Her thoughts or her footsteps may stray : 
Memento of mine again never 

"Will shadow the light of her way ! 



FARETHEEWELL, LOVE. 99 



FAEE THEE WELL, LOYE. 

I. 

Fake thee well, love ! — We must sever ! 
Not for years, love ; but for ever ! 
We must meet no more — or only 
Meet as strangers — sad and lonely. 
Fare thee well ! 

II. 
Fare thee well, love ! — How I languish 
For the cause of all my anguish ! 
None have ever met and parted 
So forlorn and broken-hearted. 
Fare thee well ! 

rcr. 
Fare thee well, love ! — Till I perish 
All my truth for thee I'll cherish ; 
And, when thou my requiem hearest, 
Know till death I loved thee, dearest. 
Fare thee well ! 



100 THOU HAST WOVEN THE SPELL. 



THOU HAST WOVEN THE SPELL. 

I. 
Thotj hast woven the spell that hath bound me, 

Through all the sad changes of years ; 
And the smiles that I wore when I found thee. 

Have faded and melted in tears ! 
Like the poor, wounded fawn from the mountain, 

Tliat seeks out the clear silver tide, 
I have lingered in vain at the fountain 

Of hope — with a shaft in my side ! 

n. 

Thou hast taught me that Love's rosy fetters 

A pang from the thorns may impart ; 
That the coinage of vows and of letters 

Comes not from the mint of the heart. 
Like the lone bird that flutters her pinion. 

And warbles in bondage her strain, 
I have struggled to fly thy dominion, 

But find that the struggle is vain ! 



BESSY BELL. 101 



BESSY BELL. 



When life looks drear and lonely, love, 

And pleasant fancies flee, 
Then will the Muses only, love, 

Bestow a thought on me ! 
Mine is a harp which Pleasure, love. 

To waken strives in vain ; 
To Joy's entrancing measure, love. 

It ne'er can thrill again ! — 

"Why mock me, Bessy Bell ? 

n. 

Oh, do not ask me ever, love, 
For rapture- woven rhymes ; 

For vain is each endeavour, love. 
To sound Mirth's play-bell chimes I 



9* 



102 BESSY BELL. 



Yet still believe me, dearest love, 
Thougli sad mj song may be, 

This heart still doats sincerest, love. 
And grateful turns to thee — 

My once fond Bessy Bell ! 

in. 

Those eyes still rest upon me, love ! 

I feel their magic spell ! 
With that same look you won me, love, 

Fair, gentle Bessy Bell ! 
My doom you've idly spoken, love — 

You never can be mine ! 
But though my heart is broken, love, 

Still, Bessy, it is thine ! 

Adieu, false Bessy Bell ! 



THE DAY IS NOW DAWNING. 103 



THE DAY IS NOW DAWNING. 

WILLIAM. 

The day is now dawning, love, 

Fled is the night — 
I go like the morning, love, 

Cheerful and bright. 
Then adieu, dearest Ellen : 

When evening is near, 
I'll visit thy dwelling, 

For true love is here. 

ELLEN. 

Oh, come where the fountain, love, 

Tranquilly flows ; 
Beneath the green mountain, love, 

Seek for repose ; 
There the days of our childhood, 

In love's golden beam, 
'Mong the blue-bells and wildwood. 

Passed on like a dream. 



104 THE DAY IS NOW DAWNING. 

WILLIAM. 

Oh, linger awhile, love ! 

ELLEN. 

I must away. 

WILLIAM. 

Oh, grant me thy smile, love, 
'Tis Hope's cheering ray — 
With evening expect me. 

ELLEN. 

To the moment be true, 

And may angels protect thee — 

BOTH. 

Sweet Ellen, adieu ! 
Dear "William, adieu ! 







,a4^. 



WHEN OTHER FRIENDS. 105 



WHEN OTHEE FRIENDS. 

I. 

"When other friends are round thee, 

And other hearts are thine — 
When other bays have crowned thee, 

More fresh and green than mine — 
Then think how sad and lonely 

This doating heart will be, 
Which, while it throbs, throbs only, 

Beloved one, for thee ! 

n. 

Yet do not think I doubt thee, 

I know thy truth remains ; 
I would not live without thee. 

For all the world contains. 
Thou art the star that guides me 

Along life's troubled sea y 
And whatever fate betides me. 

This heart still turns to thee. 



106 SILENT GRIEF. 



SILENT GRIEF. 

I. 

Where is now my peace of mind ? 

Gone, alas ! for evermore : 
Turn where'er I may, I find 

Thorns where roses bloomed before ! 
O'er the green fields of my soul. 

Where the springs of joy were found, 
Now the clouds of sorrow roll. 

Shading all the prospect round ! 

n. 

Do I merit pangs like these, 

That have cleft my heart in twain ? 
Must I, to the very lees. 

Drain thy bitter chalice, Pain ? 
Silent grief all grief excels ; 

Life and it together part — 
Like a restless worm it dwells 

Deep within the human heart ! 



LOVE THEE, DEAREST? 107 



LOVE THEE, DEAKEST? 



I. 
Love thee, dearest? — Hear me. — Never 

Will my fond vows be forgot ! 
May I perish, and for ever. 

When, dear maid, I love thee not ! 
Then turn not from me, dearest! — Listen! 

Banish all thy doubts and fears ! 
And let thine eyes with transport glisten ! 

What hast thou to do with tears ? 

n. 
Dry them, dearest! — Ah, believe me, 

Love's bright flame is burning still ! 
Though the hollow world deceive thee, 

Here 's a heart that never will ! 
Dost thou smile? — A cloud of sorrow 

Breaks before Joy's rising sun ! 
Wilt thou give thy hand? — To-morrow, 

Hymen, dearest, makes us one ! 



108 A SCENE AT SEA. 



A SCENE AT SEA. 

Above our heads the moon- and stare 

"Were smiling brightly and serene, 
Painting the waves with silver bars, 

And lighting up that ocean -scene : 
And on our right the lightnings threw 

Their shafts of fire far and free ; 
While, like a bird with proud wings, flew 

Our vessel through that snow-curled sea, 
And all above, below, around, 
Was full of grandeur ! Every sound 

The winds and waters breathed were such 
As I had never heard before ! 

Oh, who can tell the heart how much 
At such an hour it will adore 

Th' Inscrutable First Cause which we 

Behold in everything at sea ! 



I LOVE THE NIGHT. 109 



I LOYE THE NIGHT. 

I. 

I LOVE the night when the moon streams bright 

On flowers that drink the dew — 
When cascades shout as the stars peep out, 

From boundless fields of blue ; 
But dearer far than moon or star, 

Or flowers of gaudy hue, 
Or gurgling trills of mountain-rills, 

I love, I love, love — you! 

n. 
I love to stray at the close of day. 

Through groves of forest-trees, 
When gushing notes from song-birds' throats 

Are vocal in the breeze. 
fl love the night — the glorious night — 
V^When hearts beat warm and true ; / 
But far above the night, I love, 

I love, I love, love — you I 



10 



no THE MINIATURE. 



THE MINIATURE. 

I. 
William was holding in bis hand 

The likeness of his wife — 
Fresh, as if touched by fairy wand, 

"With beauty, grace and life. 
He almost thought it spoke : 

He gazed upon the treasure still, 
Absorbed, delighted and amazed, 

To view the artist's skill. 

n. 

"This picture is yourself, dear Jane — 

'Tis drawn to nature true : 
I've kissed it o'er and o'er again. 

It is so much like you." 
" And has it kissed you back, my dear?" 

"Why — no — my love," said he. 
" Then, William, it is very clear 

'Tis not at all lihe mc /" 



THE RETORT. HI 



THE RETOKT. 



Old Mck, who taiiglit tlie village-scliool, 
Wedded a maid of homespun habit ; 

He was as stubborn as a mule, 
She was as playful as a rabbit. 

n. 

Poor Jane had scarce become a wife, 
Before her husband sought to make her 

The pink of country-polished life. 
And prim and formal as a quaker. 

m. 

One day the tutor went abroad, 

And simple Jenny sadly missed him ; 

When he returned, behind her lord 
She slyly stole, and fondly kissed him I 



112 THE RETORT. 



IV. 

The husband's anger rose ! — and red 
And white his face alternate grew ! 

" Less freedom, ma'am !" — Jane sighed and said, 
" Oh^ dear ! I didn't know Hwas youP'' 



LINES ON A POET. 



How sweet the cadence of his lyre ! 

What melody of words ! 
They strike a pulse within the heart 

Like songs of forest-birds, 
Or tinkling of the shepherd's bell 

Among the mountain-herds. 

II. 
His mind 's a cultured garden, 

Where Nature's hand has sown 
The flower-seeds of poesy — 

And they have freshly grown. 
Imbued with beauty and perfume 

To other plants unknown. 

III. 
A bright career's before him — 
All tongues pronounce his praise ; 



10* 



114: LINES ON A POET. 

All hearts his inspiration feel, 
And will in after-days ; 

For genius breathes in every line 
Of his soul-thrilling lays. 

IV. 

A nameless grace is round him — 
A something, too refined 

To be described, yet must be felt 
By all of human kind — 

An emanation of the soul, 
That cannot be defined. 

V. 

Then blessings on the minstrel — 
His faults let others scan : 

There may be spots upon the sun, 
Which those may view that can ; 

I see them not — yet know him well 

A POET AND A aiAN. 



THE BACCHANAL. 115 



THE BACCHANAL. 



Beside a cottage-door, 

Sung Ella at her wheel ; 
Ruthven rode o'er the moor, 

Down at her feet to kneel : 
A spotted palfrey gay 

Came ambling at his side, 
To bear the maid away 

As his affianced bride. 

n. 
A high-born noble he. 

Of stately halls secure ; 
A low-born peasant she. 

Of parentage obscure. 
How soft the honeyed words 

He breathes into her ears ! - 
The melody of birds ! 

The music of the spheres! 



116 THE BACCHANAL. 

in. 

"Witli love her bosom swells, 

"WTiich she would fail conceal - 
Her eyes, like crystal wells, 

Its hidden depths reveal. 
While liquid diamonds drip 

From feeling's fountain warm, 
Flutters her scarlet lip — 

A rose-leaf in a storm ! 

IV. 

As from an April sky 

The rain-clouds flit away, 
So from the maiden's eye 

Vanished the falling spray. 
Which lingered but awhile 

Her dimpled cheek upon — 
Then melted in her smile. 

Like vapour in the sun. 

V. 

The maid is all his own — 
She trusts his plighted word. 

And, lightly on the roan. 
She springs beside her lord. 



THE BACCHANAL. 117 



She leaves her father's cot, 
She turns her from the door — 

That green and holy spot 
Which she will see no more I 

VI. 

They hied to foreign lands, 

That lord and peasant-maid : 
The church ne'er blessed their banns, 

And Ella was betrayed ! 
Then drooped the lovely flower, 

Torn from its parent-stem ; 
Then fled in evil hour 

The light from out the gem ! 

vn. 

They laid her in the ground. 

And Ella was forgot — 
Dead was her father found 

In his deserted cot. 
But Ruthven — what of him? 

He ran the story o'er. 
And, filling to the brim. 

He thought of it no more ! 



TWENTY YEARS AGO. 

I. 

'TwAS in the flush of summer-time, 

Some twenty years or more, 
When Ernest lost his way, and crossed 

The threshold of our door. 
I'll ne'er forget his locks of jet. 

His brow of Alpine snow, 
His manly grace of form and face, 

Some twenty years ago. 

n. 
The hand he asked I freely gave — 

Mine was a happy lot, 
In all my pride to be his bride 

Within my father's cot. 
The faith he spoke he never broke : 

His faithful heart I know ; 
And well I vow I love him now 

As twenty years ago. 



NATIONAL AX THEM. II9 



NATIONAL ANTHEM. 

I. 

Fkeedom spreads her downj wings 
Over all created things ; 
Glory to the King of kings, 

Bend low to Him the knee ! 
Bring the heart before His throne— 
"Worship Him and Him alone ! — 
He's the only King we own — 

And He has made us free I 

n. 

The holiest spot a smiling sun 
E'er shed his genial rays npon, 
Is that which gave a Washington 

The drooping world to cheer ! 
Sound the clarion-peals of fame ! 
Ye who bear Columbia's name ! — 
With existence freedom came — 

It is man's birthright here ! 



120 NATIONAL ANTHEM. 

III. 

Heirs of an immortal sire, 

Let his deeds your hearts inspire ; 

Weave the strain and wake the lyre 

"Where yoiir proud altars stand ! 
Hail with pride and loud hurrahs. 
Streaming from a thousand spars. 
Freedom's rainbow-flag of stars — 

The symbol of our land ! 



ILOVETHEESTILL. 121 



I LOYE THEE STILL. 

I. 

I NEVER have been false to thee ! — 

The heart I gave thee still is thine ; 
Though thou hast been untrue to me, 

And I no more may call thee mine ! 
I've loved, as woman ever loves, 

With constant soul in good or ill : 
Thou 'st proved, as man too often proves, 

A rover — but I love thee stiU! 

n. 

Yet think not that my spirit stoops 

To bind thee captive in my train ! — 
Love 's not a flower, at sunset droops, 

But smiles when comes her god again ! 
Thy words, which fall unheeded now, 

Could once my heart-strings madly thrill ! 
Love's golden chain and burning vow 

Are broken — but I love thee still ! 



11 



122 I LOVE THEE STILL. 

m. 
Once what a heaven of bliss was ours, 

"When love dispelled the clouds of care, 
And time went by with birds and flowers, 

While song and incense filled the air ! 
The past is mine — the present thine — 

Should thoughts of me thy future fill. 
Think what a destiny is mine. 

To lose — but love thee, false one, still! 



LOOK FROM THY LATTICE, LOVE. 123 



LOOK FKOM THY LATTICE, LOVE. 



Look from thy lattice, love — 

Listen to me ! 
The cool, balmy breeze 

Is abroad on the sea ! 
The moon, like a qneen, 

Roams her realms above, 
And naught is awake 

But the spirit of love. 
Ere morn's golden light 

Tips the hills with its ray, 
Away o'er the waters — 

Away and away ! 
Then look from thy lattice, love — 

Listen to me, 
While the moon lights the sky, 

And the breeze curls the sea ! 



124 LOOK FROM THY LATTICE, LOVE. 



n. 
Look from thy lattice, love — 

Listen to me I 
Li the voyage of life, 

Love our pilot will be I 
He '11 sit at the helm 

Wherever we rove, 
And steer by the load-star 

He kindled above ! 
His gem-girdled shallop 

"Will cut the bright spray, 
Or skim, like a bird. 

O'er the waters away ! 
Then look from thy lattice, love — 

Listen to me, 
"While the moon lights the sky, 

And the breeze curls the sea ! 



SHE LOVED HIM. 125 



SHE LOYED HIM. 

I. 

She loved — but she heeded not — 

Her heart had only room for pride : 
All other feelings were forgot, 

When she became another's bride. 
As from a dream she then awoke, 

To realize her lonely state, 
And own it was the vow she broke 

That made her drear and desolate ! 

n. 
She loved him — but the sland'rer came, 

With words of hate that all believed ; 
A stain thus rested on his name — 

But he was wronged and she deceived ! 
Ah ! rash the act that gave her hand. 

That drove her lover from her side — 
Who hied him to a distant land, 

Where, battling for a name, he died ! 



11* 



126 SHE LOVED HIM. 

in. 
She loved him — and his memory now 

Was treasured from the world apart : 
Tlie calm of thought was on her brow, 

The seeds of death were in her heart. 
For all the world that thing forlorn 

I would not, could not be, and live — 
That casket with its jewel gone, 

A bride who has no heart to give ! 



L 



THE SUITORS. 127 



THE SUITORS. 



"Weaxth sought the bower of Beauty, 

Dressed like a modern beau : 
Just then Love, Health and Duty 

Took up their hats to go. 
Wealth such a cordial welcome met, 

As made the others grieve ; 
So Duty shunned the gay coquette. 

Love, pouting, took French leave — • 
He did! 

Love, pouting, took French leave ! 

n. 

Old Time, the friend of Duty, 
Kext called to see the fair ; 

He laid his hand on Beauty, 
And left her in despair. 



128 THE SUITORS. 



Wealth vanished ! — Last went rosy Health- 

And she was doomed to prove 
That those who Duty slight for Wealth, 

Can never hope for Love — 
Ah, no ! 

Can never hope for Love ! 



ST. AGNES' SHRINE. 129 



ST. AGNES' SHEINE. 

I. 

While before St. Agnes' shrine 

Knelt a true knight's lady-love, 
From the wars of Palestine 

Came a gentle carrier-dove. 
Round his neck a silken string 

Fastened words the warrior writ : 
At her call he stooped his wing, 

And upon her finger lit. 

n. 
She, like one enchanted, pored 

O'er the contents of the scroll — 
For that lady loved her lord 

"With a pure, devoted soul. 
To her heart her dove she drew, 

While she traced the burning line ; 
Then away his minion flew 

Back to sainted Palestine. 



130 ST. AGNES' SHRINE. 

III. 

To and fro, from hand to hand 

Came and went a carrier-dove, 
Till throughout the Holy Land 

War resigned his sword to Love. 
Swift her dove, on wings of light, 

Brought the news from Palestine, 
And the lady her true knight 

"Wedded at St. Agnes' shrine. 



WESTERN REFRAIN. 131 



WESTEKN REFKAIN. 



Dkoop not, brothers ! 
As we go, 

O'er the mountains. 
Westward ho ! 
Under boughs of mistletoe, 

Log-huts we '11 rear, 
"While herds of deer and buffalo 

Furnish the cheer. 
File o'er the mountains — steady, boys! 

For game afar 
"We have our rifles ready, boys ! — 

Aha! 
Throw care to the winds, 

Like chaff, boys ! — ha ! 
And join in the laugh, boys — 

Hah — hah — hah ! 



132 WESTERN REFRAIN. 

II. 

Cheer up, brothers I 
As we go, 

O'er the mountains, 
Westward ho ! 
When we 've wood and prairie land, 

Won by our toil. 
We '11 reign like kings in fairj-land, 

Lords of the soil ! 
Then westward ho ! in legions, boys ■ 

Fair Freedom's star 
Points to her sunset regions, boys ! — 

Aha! 
Throw care to the winds. 

Like chaff, boys! — ha! 
And join in the laugh, boys — 

Hah — hah — hah ! 



THE PRAIRIE ON FIRE. 133 



THE PEAIRIE ON FIRE. 

I. 

The shades of evening closed around 

The boundless Prairies of the west, 
As, grouped in sadness on the ground, 

A band of pilgrims leaned to rest : 
Upon the tangled weeds were laid 

The mother and her youngest bom, 
Who slept, while others watched and prayed, 

And thus the weary night went on. 

n. 
Thick darkness shrouded earth and sky — 

When on the whispering winds there came 
The Teton's shrill and thrilling cry. 

And heaven was pierced with shafts of flame ! 
The sun seemed rising through the haze, 

But with an aspect dread and dire : 
The very air appeared to blaze ! — 

O God ! the Prairie was on fire ! 



12 



134 THE PRAIRIE ON FIRE. 

III. 

Around tlie centre of the plain 

A belt of flame retreat denied — 
And, like a furnace, glowed the train 

That walled them in on every side : 
And onward rolled the torrent wild — 

Wreathes of dense smoke obscured the sky ! 
The mother knelt beside her child, 

And all — save one — shrieked out, "We die!" 

IV. 

" Not so !" he cried. — " Help ! — Clear the sedge ! 

Strip bare a circle to the land !" 
Tliat done, he hastened to its edge. 

And grasped a rifle in his hand : 
Dried weeds he held beside the pan, 

Which kindled at a flash the mass ! 
" Now fire fight fire !" he said, as ran 

The forked flames among the grass. 

y. 

On three sides now the torrent flew, 
But on the fourth no more it raved ! 

Then large and broad the circle grew, 
And thus the pilgrim band was saved ! 



The flames receded far and wide — 
The mother had not praj'-ed in vain : 

God had the Teton's arts defied ! 
His scythe of fire had swept the plain ! 



136 THE EVERGREEN. 



THE EYERGREEN. 

I. 

Love cannot be the aloe-tree, 

Whose bloom but once is seen ; 
Go search the grove — the tree of love 

Is sure the evergreen : 
For that's the same, in leaf or frame, 

'E"eath cold or sunny skies ; 
You take the ground its roots have bound, 

Or it, transplanted, dies ! 

n. 

That love thus shoots, and firmly roots 

In woman's heart, we see ; 
Through smiles and tears in after-years 

It grows a fadeless tree. 
The tree of love, all trees above. 

For ever may be seen. 
In summer's bloom or winter's gloom, 

A hardy evergreen. 



THE MAY-QUEEN. 137 



THE MAY-QUEEN. 



Like flights of singing-birds went by 
The cheerful hours of girlhood's day, 
When, in my native bowers, 
Of simple buds and flowers 
They wove a crown, and hailed me Queen of May ! 

n. 

Like airy sprites the lasses came, 
Spring's offerings at my feet to lay ; 
The crystal from the fountain, 
The green bough from the mountain. 
They brought to cheer and shade the Queen of May. 

in. 

Around the May-pole on the green, 
A fairy ring they tripped away ; 
All merriment and pleasure, 
To chords of tuneful measure 
They bounded by the happy Queen of May. 



12' 



138 THE MAY-QUEEN". 

IV. 

Though years have passed, and Time has strown 
My raven locks with flakes of gray, 
Fond Memory brings the hours 
Of buds and blossom-showers 
When in girlhood I was crowned the Queen of May. 



VENETIAN SERENADE. 139 



VENETIAN SERENADE, 

I. 

Come, come to me, love ! 

Come, love ! — Arise ! 
And shame the bright stars 

With the light of thine eyes ; 
Look out from thy lattice — 

Oh lady-bird, hear ! 
A swan on the water — 

My gondola 's near ! 

II. 

Come, come to me, love ! 

Come, love ! — My bride ! 
O'er crystal in moonbeams 

We '11 tranquilly glide : 
In the dip of the oar 

A melody flows 
Sweet as the nightingale 

Sings to the rose. 



140 VENETIAN SERENADE. 

in. 
Come, come to me, love ! 

Come, love ! — The day 
Brings warder and cloister ! 

Away, then — away ! 
Oh, haste to thy lover ; 

Not yon star above 
Is more true to heaven 

Tlian he to his love ! 



THE WHIP-POOR-WILL. 



" The plaint of the wailing Whip-poor-will, 
Who mourns unseen, and ceaseless sings 
Ever a note of wail and wo, 

Till Morning spreads her rosy wings, 
And earth and sky in her glances glow." 

J. R. Dbake. 



Why dost tliou come at set of sun, 

Tliose pensive words to say? 
Why whip poor Will? — What has he done? 

And who is Will, I pray ? 



n. 

Why come from yon leaf-shaded hill, 
A suppliant at my door? — 

Why ask of me to whip poor Will ? 
And is Will really poor ? 



142 THE WHIP-POOR-WILL. 

in. 

If poverty 's his crime, let mirtli 
From out his heart be driven : 

That is the deadliest sin on earth, 
And never is forgiven ! 

IV. 

Art Will himself? — It must be so — 
I learn it from thy moan, 

For none can feel another's wo 
As deeply as his own. 



v. 

Yet wherefore strain thy tiny throat, 
While other birds repose ? 

What means thy melancholy note? — 
The mystery disclose ! 



VI. 

Still "Whip poor will!" — Art thou a sprite, 

From unknown regions sent 
To wander in the gloom of night, 

And ask for punishment ? 




Is thine a conscience sore beset 
"With guilt? — or, what is worse, 

Hast thou to meet writs, duns and debt — 
No money in thy purse ? 



vm. 

If this be thy hard fate indeed, 
Ah ! well may'st thou repine : 

The sympathy I give I need — 
The poet's doom is thine ! 



IX. 

Art thou a lover, Will ? — Hast proved 

The fairest can deceive ? 
Thine is the lot of all who 've loved 

Since Adam wedded Eve ! 



Hast trusted in a friend, and seen 
"No friend was he in need ? 

A common error — men still lean 
Upon as frail a reed. 



IM THE WHIP-POOR-WILL. 

XI. 

Hast thou, in seeking wealth or fame, 
A crown of brambles won ? 

O'er all the earth 'tis just the same 
With every mother's son ! 



xn. 

Hast found the world a Babel wide, 
Where man to Mammon stoops ? — 

Where flourish Arrogance and Pride, 
While modest Merit droops ? 



xm. 

What, none of these ? — Then, whence thy pain ' 

To guess it who 's the skill ? 
Pray have the kindness to explain 

Why I should whip poor Will ? 



XIV. 

Dost merely ask thy just desert? 

What, not another word? — 
Back to the woods again, unhurt — 

I will not harm thee, bird ! 



THE WHIP-POOR-WILL. 145 

XY. 

But use thee kindly — for my nerves, 

Like thine, have penance done : 
" Use every man as he deserves. 

Who shall 'scape whipping ?" — None ! 

XVI. 

Farewell, poor Will ! — Not valueless 

This lesson by thee given : 
" Keep thine own counsel, and confess 

Thyself alone to Heaven !" 



13 



146 THE EXILE TO HIS SISTER. 



THE EXILE TO HIS SISTEK. 

I. 

As streams at morn, from seas that glide, 

Rejoicing on their sparkling way, 
Will turn again at eventide, 

To mingle with their kindred spray — 
E'en 80 the currents of the soul. 

Dear sister, wheresoe'er we rove, 
Will backward to our country roll 

The boundless ocean of our love. 

n. 
Yon northern star, now burning bright. 

The guide by which the wave-tossed steer. 
Beams not with a more constant light 

Than does thy love, my sister dear. 
From stars above the streams below 

Keceive the glory they impart ; 
So, sister, do thy virtues glow 

Within the mirror of my heart. 



NEAR THE LAKE. 147 



NEAR THE LAKE. 

I. 

Neab the lake where drooped the willow, 

Long time ago ! — 
Where the rock threw back the billow, 

Brighter than snow — 
Dwelt a maid, beloved and cherished 

By high and low ; 
But with autumn's leaf she perished, 

Long time ago ! 

n. 
Rock and tree and flowing water, 

Long time ago ! — 
Bee and bird and blossom taught her 

Love's spell to know ! 
While to my fond words she listened. 

Murmuring low. 
Tenderly her dove-eyes glistened, 

Long time ago ! 



148 NEARTHELAKE. 

in. 

Mingled were our hearts for ever, 

Long time ago ! 
Can I now forget her? — Never! 

No — lost one — no ! 
To her grave these tears are given, 

Ever to flow : 
She's the star I missed from heaven, 

Long time ago ! 



THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER. 149 



THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER. 

I. 
An ivy-mantled cottage smiled, 

Deep-wooded near a streamlet's side, 
Where dwelt the village-pastor's child, 

In all her maiden bloom and pride. 
Proud suitors paid their court and duty 
To this romantic sylvan beauty : 
Yet none of all the swains who sought her, 
"Was worthy of the pastor's daughter. 

n. 
The town-gallants crossed hill and plain. 

To seek the groves of her retreat ; 
And many followed in her train, 

To lay their riches at her feet. 
But still, for all their arts so wary. 
From home they could not lure the fairy. 
A maid without a heart they thought her, 
And 80 they left the pastor's daughter. 



13* 



150 THE PASTOR'S DAUGHTER. 

in. 

One balmy eve in dewy spring 

A bard became her father's guest : 
He struck his harp, and every string 

To love vibrated in her breast. 
With that true faith which cannot falter, 
Her hand was given at the altar. 
And faithful was the heart he brought her 
To wedlock and the pastor's daughter. 

IV. 

How seldom learn the worldly gay 
"With all their sophistry and art, 
The sweet and gentle primrose-way 
To woman's fond, devoted heart! 
They seek, but never find, the treasure, 
Revealed in eyes of jet and azure. 
To them, like truth in wells of water, 
A fable is the pastor's daughter. 



MARGARETTA. 151 



MARGARETTA. 

I. 
"When I was in my teens, 

I loved dear Margaretta : 
I know not what it means, 

I cannot now forget her ! 
That vision of the past 

My head is ever crazing ; 
Yet, when I saw her last, 

I could not speak for gazing ! 
Oh, lingering rose of May ! 

Dear as when first I met her ; 
Worn is my heart alway, 

Life-cherished Margaretta ! 

n. 
"We parted near the stile, 

As morn was faintly breaking : 
For many a weary mile 

Oh how my heart was aching ! 



152 MARGARETTA. 



But distance, time and change, 

Have lost me Margaretta ; 
And yet 'tis sadly strange 

That I cannot forget her ! 
O queen of rural maids — 

My dark-eyed Margaretta — 
The heart the mind upbraids 

That struggles to forget her ! 

m. 

My love, I know, will seem 

A wayward, boyish folly ; 
But, ah ! it was a dream 

Most sweet — most melancholy. 
Were mine the world's domain, 

To me 'twere fortune better 
To be a boy again, 

And dream of Margaretta. 
Oh ! memory of the past. 

Why linger to regret her ? 
My first love was my last — 

And that is Margaretta ! 



THE COLONEL. I53 



THE COLONEL. 

I. 
The Colonel ! — Such a creature ! 

I met him at the ball ! — 
So fair in form and feature, 

And so divinely tall ! 
He praised my dimpled cheeks and curls, 

"While whirling through the dance, 
And matched me with the dark-eyed girls 

Of Italy and France ! 

n. 
He said, in accents thrilling — 

" Love 's boundless as the sea ; 
And I, dear maid, am willing 

To give up all for thee !" 
I heard him— blushed — "Would ask mamma"- 

And then my eyes grew dim ! 
He looked — I said, "Mamma — papa — 

I'd give up all for him !" 



154 THE COLONEL. 



m. 

My governor is ricli and old ; 

This well the Colonel knew. 
" Love's wings," he said, " when fringed with gold, 

Are beautiful to view !" 
I thought his 'haviour quite the ton, 

Until I saw him stare 
When merely told that — brother — John — 

Papa — would — make — his — heir ! 

IV. 

Next day and the day after 

I dressed for him in vain ; 
"Was moved to tears and laughter — 

He never came again ! 
But I have heard, for Widow Dash 

He bought the bridal ring ; 
And he will wed her for her cash — 

The ugly, hateful thing ! 



THE SWEEP'S CAROL. 165 



THE SWEEP'S CAROL. 



Through the streets of Kew-York city, 

Blithely every morn, 
I carolled o'er my artless ditty, 

Cheerly though forlorn ! 
Before the rosy light, my lay 

"Was to the maids begun. 
Ere winter snows had passed away, 

Or smiled the summer sun. 

Carol — O — a — y — e — o ! 

n. 

In summer months I 'd fondly woo 
Those merry, dark-eyed girls, 

"With faces of the ebon hue, 

And teeth like eastern pearls ! 



156 THE SWEEP'S CAROL. 

One vowed my love she would repay - 
Her heart my song had won, 

When winter snows had passed away, 
And smiled the summer sun. 
Carol — O — a — y — e — o ! 

m. 

A year, alas ! had scarcely flown — 

Hope beamed but to deceive — 
Ere I was left to weep alone, 

From morn till dewy eve ! 
She died one dreary break of day ! — 

Grief weighs my heart upon ! — 
In vain the snows may pass away, 

Or smile the summer sun. 

Carol — O — a — y — e — o ! 



THE SEASONS OF LOVE. 157 



THE SEASONS OF LOVE 



The spring-time of love 

Is both happy and gay, 
For Joy sprinkles blossoms 

And balm in our way j 
The sky, earth and ocean 

In beauty repose. 
And all the bright future 

Is couleur de rose. 

n. 
The summer of love 

Is the bloom of the heart, 
When hill, grove and valley 

Their music impart ; 
And the pure glow of heaven 

Is seen in fond eyes, 
As lakes show the rainbow 

That 's hung in the skies. 



14 



158 THE SEASONS OF LOVE. 

in. 

The autumn of love 

Is the season of cheer — 
Life's mild Indian summer, 

The smile of the year? 
Which comes when the golden 

Ripe harvest is stored, 
And yields its own blessings — 

Eepose and reward. 

! ^' 

The winter of love 

Is the beam that we win 
While the storm scowls without, 

From the sunshine within. 
Love's reign is eternal — 

The heart is his throne, 
And he has all seasons 

Of life for his own. 



MY WOODLAND BKIDE. 

I. 

Heke upon the mountain-side 

Till now we met together ; 
Here I won my woodland bride, 

In flush of summer weather. 
Green was then the linden-bough, 

This dear retreat that shaded ; 
Autumn winds are round me now. 

And the leaves have faded. 

n. 

She whose heart was all my own, 

In this summer-bower, 
"With all pleasant things has flown, 

Sunbeam, bird and flower ! 
But her memory will stay 

With me, though we 're parted — 
From the scene I turn away. 

Lone and broken-hearted ! 



160 OH, THINK OF ME! 



OH, THINK OF ME! 



I. 

Oh, think of me, my own beloved, 

Whatever cares beset thee ! 
And when thou hast the falsehood proved, 

Of those with smiles who met thee — 
While o'er the sea, think, love, of me. 

Who never can forget thee ; 
Let Memory trace the trysting-place, 

Where I with tears regret thee. 

n. 

Bright as yon star, within my mind, 

A hand unseen hath set thee ; 
There hath thine image been enshrined, 

Since first, dear love, I met thee ; 
So in thy breast I fain would rest. 

If, haply, fate would let me — 
And live or die, wert thou but nigh, 

To love or to regret me ! 



MY BARK IS OUT UPON THE SEA. 161 



MY bark: is out upon the sea, 

I. 

My bark is out upon the sea — 

The moon 's above ; 
Her light a presence seems to me 

Like woman's love. 
My native land I've left behind — 

Afar I roam ; 
In other climes no hearts I '11 find 

Like those at home. 

n. 
Of all yon sisterhood of stars, 

But one is true : 
She paves my path with silver bars, 

And beams like you. 
Whose purity the waves recall 

In music's flow, 
As round my bark they rise and fall 

In liquid snow. 



14* 



162 MY BARK IS OUT UPON THE SEA. 

m. 

The fresli'ning breeze now swells our sails ! 

A storm is on ! 
The weary moon's dim lustre fails — 

The stars are gone ! 
Not so fades Love's eternal light 

"When storm-clouds weep ; 
I know one heart's with me to-night 

Upon the deep ! 



WILL XOBODY MARRY ME? 163 



WILL NOBODY MARRY ME? 

I. 

Heigh-ho ! for a husband ! — Heigh-ho ! 

There 's danger in longer delay ! 
Shall I never again have a beau ? 

Will nobody marry me, pray ! 
I begin to feel strange, I declare ! 

With beauty my prospects will fade — 
I'd give myself up to despair 

If I thought I should die an old maid ! 

n. 
I once cut the beaux in a huff — 

I thought it a sin and a shame 
That no one had spirit enough 

To ask me to alter my name. 
So I turned up my nose at the short, 

And cast down my eyes at the tall ; 
But then I just did it in sport — 

And now I 've no lover at all ! 



164 



WILL NOBODY MARRY ME? 



III. 

Tliese men are tlie plague of my life : 

'Tis hard from so many to choose ! 
Should any one wish for a wife, 

Could 1 have the heart to refuse ? 
I don't know — for none have proposed — 

Oh, dear me ! — I'm frightened, I vow ! 
Good gracious ! who ever supposed 

That I should be single till now ? 



THE STAR OF LOVE. 165 



THE STAK OF LOVE. 

I. 

The star of love now shines above, 

Cool zephyrs crisp the sea ; 
Among the leaves the wind-harp weaves 

Its serenade for thee. 
The star, the breeze, the wave, the trees. 

Their minstrelsy unite, 
But all are drear till thou appear 

To decorate the night. 

II. 

The light of noon streams from the moon. 

Though with a milder raj ; 
O'er hill and grove, like woman's love. 

It cheers us on our way. 
Thus all that's bright — tlie moon, the night, 

The heavens, the earth, the sea — 
Exert their powers to bless the hours 

We dedicate to thee. 



166 WELL-A-DAY! 



WELL-A-DAY! 



Love comes and goes like a spell ! 
How, no one knows, nor can tell ! 
Now here — now there — then away! 
!N"one dreametli where! — Well-a-day! 

n. 

Love should be true as the star 
Seen in the blue sky afar ! — 
Not here — now here — like the lay 
Of lutes in th' air ! — Well-a-day ! 

in. 

Should love depart, not a tie 
Binds up the heart till we die ! — 
Now here — now there — sad we stray! 
Life is all care ! — Well-a-day I 



NOT MARRIED YET! 167 



NOT MAEKIED YET! 

I. 

I'm single yet — I'm single yet! 

And years have flown since I came out ! 
In vain I sigh — in vain I fret — 

Ye gods ! what are the men about? 
I vow I 'm twenty ! — O ye powers ! 

A spinter's lot is hard to bear — 
On earth alone to pass her hours, 

And afterward lead apes — down iheve! 

n. 

Ko offer yet — no offer yet ! 

I 'm puzzled quite to make it out : 
For every beau my cap I set — 

What, what, what are the men about ? 
They don't propose — they loonH propose, 

For fear, perhaps, I'd not say, "Yes!" 
Just let them try — for Heaven knows 

I'm tired of single-blessedness. 



168 NOT MARRIED YET! 

III. 

"Not married yet — not married yet — 

The deuce is in the men, I fear ! 
I'm like a — something to be let, 

And to be let alone — that's clear. 
They say, "She's pretty — but no chink - 

And love without it runs in debt !" 
It agitates my nerves to think 

That I have had no oiFer yet ! 



LADY OF ENGLAND. IQQ 



LADY OF ENGLAND. 



Lady of England — o'er the seas 
Thy name was borne on every breeze, 
Till all this sunset clime became 
Familiar with Yictoria's name. 



n. 

Though seas divide us many a mile, 
Yet, for the Queen of that fair isle, 
From which our fathers sprung, there roves 
A blessing from this Land of Groves. 

in. 

Our Fatherland! — Fit theme for song! 
When thou art named, what memories throng ! 
Shall England cease our love to claim ? 
Kot while our language is the same. 



15 



170 LADY OF ENGLAND, 

IV. 

Scion of kings ! so live and reign, 
That, when tby nation's swelling strain 
Is breathed amid our forests green, 
"We too may sing, " God save the Queen !" 



OH, THIS LOVE! 


171 


OH, THIS LOVE! 

I. 

Oh, this love — this love! 
I ainse the passion slighted ; 





But hearts that truly love, 
Must break or be united. 
Oh, this love ! 

n. 

When first he cam' to woo, 
I little cared aboot him ; 

But scene I felt as though 
I could na' live without hira. 
Oh, this love ! 

m. 

He brought to me the ring. 
My hand asked o' my mither- 

I could na' bear the thought 
That he should wed anither. 
Oh, this love ! 



172 


OH, THIS LOVEI 




IV. 




And now I'm a' his ain — 




In a' his joys I mingle ; 




Nae for the wealth of warlds 




Wad I again be single ! 




Oh, this love ! 



M A U Y. 173 



MARY. 



One balmy summer night, Mary, 

Just as the risen moon 
Had cast aside her fleecy veil, 

"We left the gay saloon ; 
And in a green, sequestered spot, 

Beneath a drooping tree, 
Fond words were breathed, by you forgot, 

That still are dear to me, Mary, 
That still are dear to me. 



n. 

Oh, we were happy then, Mary — 
Time lingered on his way. 

To crowd a lifetime in a night. 
Whole ages in a day ! 

If star and sun would set and rise 
Thus in our after-years. 



15^ 



174 MARY. 

The world would be a paradise, 
And not a vale of tears, Marj, 
And not a vale of tears. 

m. 

I live but in the past, Mary — 

The glorious days of old ! 
When love was hoarded in the heart, 

As misers hoard their gold : 
And often like a bridal train, 

To music soft and low. 
The by-gone moments cross my brain. 

In all their summer glow, Mary, 
In all their summer glow. 

IV. 

These visions form and fade, Mary, 

As age comes stealing on. 
To bring the light and leave the shade 

Of dsLjs for ever gone ! 
The poet's brow may wear at last 

The bays that round it fall ; 
But love has rose-buds of the past 

Far dearer than them all, Mary, 
Far dearer than them all ! 



THE BEAM OF DEVOTION. 175 



THE BEAM OF DEVOTION. 

I. 
I NEVER could find a good reason 

Why Sorrow unbidden should stay, 
And all the bright joys of life's season 

Be driven unheeded away. 
Our cares would wake no more emotion, 

"Were we to our lot but resigned, 
Than pebbles flung into the ocean. 

That leave scarce a ripple behind. 

n. 

The world has a spirit of beauty, 

Which looks upon all for the best — 
And while it discharges its duty, 

To Providence leaves all the rest : 
That spirit's the beam of devotion, 

Which lights us through life to its close, 
And sets, like the sun in the ocean, 

More beautiful far than it rose. 



176 THE WELCOME AXD FAREWELL, 



THE WELCOME AND FxVREWELL. 

I. 

To meet and part, as we have met and parted, 

One moment cherished and the next forgot, 
To wear a smile when almost broken-hearted, 

I know full well is hapless woman's lot; 
Yet let me, to thy tenderness appealing. 

Avert this brief but melancholy doom — 
Content that close beside the thorn of feeling. 

Grows memory, like a rose, in guarded bloom. 

n. 
Love's history, dearest, is a sad one ever. 

Yet often with a smile I've heard it told ! 
Oh, there are records of the heart which never 

Are to the scrutinizing gaze nnrolled ! 
Mine eye to thine may scarce again aspire — 

Still in thy memory, dearest, let me dwell. 
And hush, with this hope, the magnetic wire, 

Wild with onr mingled welcome and farewell ! 



'TIS NOW THE PROMISED HOUR. 

A SERENADE. 
I. 

The fountains serenade the flowers, 

Upon their silver lute — 
And, nestled in their leafy bowers. 

The forest-birds are mute : 
The bright and glittering hosts above 

Unbar their golden gates. 
While Nature holds her court of love, 

And for her client waits. 
Then, lady, wake — in beauty rise! 

'Tis now the promised hour, 
When torches kindle in the skies 

To light thee to thy bower. 

II. 
The day we dedicate to care — 

To love the witching night ; 
For all that 's beautiful and fair 

In hours like these unite. 



ITS 'TIS NOW THE PROMISED HOUR. 

E'en thus the sweets to flowerets given — 

The moonh'ght on the tree — 
And all the bliss of earth and heaven — 

Are mingled, love, in thee. 
Then, lady, wake — in beauty rise ! 

'Tis now the promised hour. 
When torches kindle in the skies 

To light thee to thy bower ! 



THE SONGS OF II O ^1 E. 179 



THE SONGS OF HOME, 



Oh, sing once more those dear, familiar lays, 

Whose gliding measure every bosom thrills, 
And takes my heart back to the happy days 

When first I sung them on my native hills ! 
With the fresh feelings of the olden times, 

I hear them now upon a foreign shore — 
The simple music and the artless rhymes ! 

Oh, sing those dear, familiar lays once more. 
Those cheerful lays of other days — 

Oh, sing those cheerful lays once more ! 

n. 

Oh, sing once more those joy-provoking strains, 
Which, half forgotten, in my memory dwell ; 

They send the life-blood bounding through my veins, 
And linger round me like a fairy spell. 



180 THE SONGS OF HOME. 

The songs of home are to the human heart 

Far dearer than the notes that song-birds pour, 

And of our very nature form a part : 

Then sing those dear, familiar lays once more ! 

Tliose cheerful lays of other days — 
Oh, sing those cheerful lays once more ! 



MASONIC HYMN. 181 



MASONIC HYMN. 



Our Order, like the ark of yore, 
Upon the raging sea was tossed ; 

Secure amid the billow's roar, 

It moved, and nothing has been lost. 

n. 

When elements discordant seek 

To wreck what God in mercy saves, 

The struggle is as vain and weak 
As that of the retiring waves. 

III. 

The Power who bade the waters cease, 
The Pilot of the Pilgrim Band, 

He gave the gentle dove of peace 
The branch she bore them from the land. 



Id 



IV. 



In Him alone "we put our trust, 

"With heart and hand and one accord, 

Ascribing, with tlie true and just, 
All " holiness unto the Lord." 



THE DISMISSED. 183 



THE DISMISSED. 



" I suppose she was right in rejecting iny suit, 
But why did she kick me down stairs i" 

Hax,leck's "Discarded." 



Tfe wing of my spirit is broken, 

My day-star of liope has declined ; 
For a month not a word have I spoken 

That's either polite or refined. 
My mind 's like the sky in bad weather, 

When mist-clouds around us are curled : 
And, viewing myself altogether, 

I 'm the veriest wretch in the world ! 



n. 

I wander about like a vagrant — 
I spend half my time in the street ; 

My conduct's improper and flagrant, 
For I quarrel with all that I meet. 



My dress, too, is wholly neglected, 
My hat I pull over my brow. 

And I look like a fellow suspected 
Of wishing to kick up a row. 



in. 



In vain I've endeavoured to borrow 

From friends " some material aid" — 
For my landlady views me with sorrow, 

When she thinks of the bill that's unpaid. 
Abroad my acquaintances flout me, 

Tlie ladies cry, " Bless us, look there !" 
And the little boys cluster about me, 

And sensible citizens stare. 



IV. 



One says, "He's a victim to Cupid;" 

Another, "His conduct's too bad;" 
A third, " He is awfully stupid ;" 

A fourth, " He is perfectly mad !" — 
And then I am watched like a bandit. 

Mankind with me all are at strife : 
By Heaven, no longer I'll stand it, 

But quick put an end to my life ! 



THE DISMISSED. 185 

V. 

I've thought of the means — yet I shudder 

At dagger or ratsbane or rope ; 
At drawing with lancet my blood, or 

At razor without any soap ! 
Suppose I should fall in a duel, 

And thus leave the stage with eclat ? 
But to die with a bullet is cruel — 

Besides, 'twould be breaking the law ! 

VI. 

Yet one way remains : to the river 

I '11 fly from the goadings of care ! — 
But drown? — oh ! the thought makes me shiver — 

A terrible death, I declare ! 
Ah, no ! — I '11 once more see my Kitty, 

And parry her cruel disdain — 
Beseech her to take me in pity, 

And never dismiss me again. 



16^ 



LORD OF THE CASTLE, 



" Lord of the castle ! oh, where goest thou ? 
"Why is the triumph of pride on thy brow?" — 
" Pilgrim, my bridal awaits me to-day, 
Over the mountains away and away." 

n. 

" Flora in beauty and solitude roves, 
List'ning for thee in the shade of the groves." 
" Pilgrim, I hasten her truth to repay, 
Over the mountains away and away." 

in. 

" Guided by honour, how brilliant the road 
Leading from cottage to castle abode !" 
" Pilgrim, its dictates I learned to obey, 
Over the mountains away and away." 



THE FALLEN BRAVE. 187 



THE FALLEN BRAVE. 

I. 

From cypress and from laurel boughs 

Are twined, in sorrow and in pride, 
The leaves that deck the mouldering brows 

Of those who for their country died : 
In sorrow, that the sable pall 

Enfolds the valiant and the brave ; 
In pride, that those who nobly fall 

"Win garlands that adorn the grave. 

n. 

The onset — the pursuit — the roar 

Of victory o'er the routed foe — 
Will startle from their rest no more 

The fallen brave of Mexico. 
To God alone such spirits yield ! 

He took them in their strength and bloom. 
When gathering, on the tented field. 

The garlands woven for the tomb. 



in. 

The shrouded flag — the drooping spear — 

The muffled drum — the solemn bell — 
The funeral train — the dirge — the bier — 

The mourners' sad and last farewell — 
Are fading tributes to the worth 

Of those whose deeds this homage claim ; 
But Time, who mingles them with earth 

Keeps green the garlands of their fame. 



SO^'G OF THE TROUBADOUR. 189 



SONG OF THE TROUBADOUR. 

IN IMITATION OF THE LAYS OF TUB OLDEN TIME. 



"Come, list to the lay of the olden time," 
A troubadour sung on a moonlit stream : 

"The scene is laid in a foreign clime, 

"A century back — and love is the theme." 

Love was the theme of the troubadour's rhyme, 

Of lady and lord of the olden time. 



n. 

" At an iron-barred turret, a lady fair 
"Knelt at the close of the vesper-chime : 
"Her beads she numbered in silent prayer 

"For one far away, whom to love was her crime. 
"Love," sung the troubadour, "love was a crime, 
"When fathers were stern, in the olden time. 



190 SONG OF THE TROUBADOUR. 

III. 

" The warder had spurned from the castle-gate 

"The minstrel who wooed her in flowing rhyme — 

" He came back from battle in regal estate — 
" The bard was a prince of the olden time. 

" Love," sung the troubadour, " listened to rhyme, 

" And welcomed the bard of the olden time. 

rv. 

" The prince in disguise had the lady sought ; 

" To chapel they hied in their rosy prime : 
"Thus worth won a jewel that wealth never bought, 

" A fair lady's heart of the olden time. 
" The moral," the troubadour sung, " of my rhyme, 
" Was well understood in the olden time." 



CHAMPIONS OF LIBERTY. 191 



CHAMPIONS OF LIBEETY. 



The pride of all our chivalry, 
The name of Worth will stand, 

Wliile throbs the pnlse of liberty 
Within his native land : 

The wreath his brow was formed to wear, 

A nation's tears will freshen there. 



n. 

The young companion of his fame, 

In war and peace allied, 
With garlands woven round his name, 

Keposes at his side : 
Duncan, whose deeds for evermore 
Will live amid his cannon's roar. 



192 CHAMPIONS OF LIBERTY. 

III. 

Gates, in his country's quarrel bold. 
When she to arms appealed, 

Sought, like the Christian knights of old, 
His laurels on the field : 

Where victory rent the welkin-dome, 

He earned — a sepulchre at home. 



rv. 

The drum-beat of the bannered brave, 
The requiem and the knell, 

The volley o'er the soldier's grave, 
His comrades' last farewell. 

Are tributes rendered to the dead, 

And sermons to the living read. 



V. 

But there 's a glory brighter far 
Tlian all that earth has given ; 

A beacon, like the index-star, 
That points the way to heaven : 

It is a life w^ell spent — its close 

The cloudless sundown of repose. 



CHAMPIONS OF LIBERTY. 193 

VI. 

That such was theirs for whom we mourn, 

These obsequies attest ; 
And though in sorrow they are borne 

Unto their final rest, 
A guide will their example be 
To future champions of the free. 



17 



194 THE HUNTER'S CAROL. 



THE HUNTER'S CAKOL. 

I. 

A MEERY life does the hunter lead ! 

He wakes with the dawn of day ; 
He whistles his dog — he mounts his steed, 

And scuds to the woods away ! 
The lightsome tramp of the deer he'll mark, 

As they troop in herds along ; 
And his rifle startles the cheerful lark 

As he carols his morning song ! 

II. 

The hunter's life is the life for me ! — 

That is the life for a man ! 
Let others sing of a home on the sea, 

But match me the woods if you can ! 
Then give me a gun — I've an eye to mark 

The deer as they bound along ! — 
My steed, dog and gun, and the cheerful lark 

To carol my morning song ! 



WASHINGTON'S MONUMENT. 195 



WASHINGTON'S MONUMENT. 



A MONuiviENT to Washington ? 

A tablet graven with his name ? — 
Green be the mound it stands upon, 

And everlasting as his fame ! 



n. 

His glory fills the land — the plain, 
The moor, the mountain and the mart ! 

More firm than column, urn or fane. 
His monument — the human heart. 



in. 

The Christian — patriot — hero — sage ! 

The chief from heaven in mercy sent ; 
His deeds are written on the age — 

His country is his monument. 



196 WASHINGTON'S MONUMENT. 

IV. 

" The sword of Gideon and the Lord" 
Was mighty in his mighty hand — 

Tlie God who guided he adored, 

And with His blessing freed the land. 

V. 

Tlie first in war — the first in peace — 
The first in hearts that freemen own ; 

Unparalleled till time shall cease — 
He lives — immortal and alone. 

VT. 

Yet let the rock-hewn tower arise, 
High to the pathway of the sun, 

And speak to the approving skies 
Our gratitude to Washington. 



THE SISTER'S APPEAL. 197 



THE SISTEK'S APPEAL. 

A FRAGMENT. 
I. 

You remember — don't you, brother — 

In our early years, 
The counsels of our poor, dear mother, 

And her hopes and fears ? 
She told us to love one another — 

Brother, dry your tears ! 

n. 
We are only two, dear brother. 

In this babel wide ! 
In the churchyard sleeps poor mother, 

By our father's side ! — 
Then let us cherish one another 

Till in death we bide. 



17* 



198 SONG OF THE REAPERS. 



SONG OF THE REAPEES, 



Joyous the carol that rings in the mountains, 
While the cleared vales are refreshed by the fountains- 
After the harvest the cheerful notes fall, 
And all the glad reapers re-echo the call ! 
La ra la la, &c. 

n. 

Oh, how the heart bounds at that simple refrain ! 
Dear haunts of my childhood, I'm with you again ! 
Green be your valleys, enriched by the rills. 
And long may that carol be sung on your hills ! 
La ra la la, &c. 



WALTER GAY. 199 



WALTER GAY. 

I. 

To know a man well, it is said, "Walter Gay, 
On shipboard with him you should be : 

If this maxim 's true, then well I know you, 
For we sailed together the sea, Walter Gay, 
For we sailed together the sea. 

n. 

I now watch the star from the strand, Walter Gay, 

As oft from the surge I did then : 
Like that all alone you sparkled and shone. 

The clear northern star among men, Walter Gay, 
The clear northern star among men ! 

ni. 
May your future course, like the past, Walter Gay, 

From wreck and misfortune be free : 
Your sorrows and care fade into the air. 

Or vanish like foam on the sea, Walter Gay, 
Or vanish like foam on the sea ! 



200 WALTER GAY 



IV. 

The friendship that's formed on the wave, Walter Gay, 

Is deeper than plummet may sound : 
That cannot decay till we lose our way, 

Or death runs the vessel aground, Walter Gay, 
Or death runs the vessel aground ! 



When life's voyage ends, may your bark, Walter Gay, 
Spread sail like the wings of a dove — 

And, when lulls the wind, safe anchorage find 
Within the good haven above, Walter Gay, 
Within the good haven above ! 



GROUNDS FOR DIVORCE. 201 



GEOUNDS FOR DIVORCE, 



HE. 



What can a man do when a woman 's perverse, 
And determined to have her own way ? 

SHE. 

At the altar you took me for better or worse : 
Am I worse than you took me for — say, 

Silly elf ?— 
Am I worse than you took me for, say ? 

II. 

HE. 

For an angel I took you in beauty and worth— 
The j^riest a mere woman has given ! 

SHE. 

A man would prefer a true woman on earth, 
To all the bright angels in heaven — 

Silly elf! — 
To all the bright angels in heaven ! 



202 GROUIfDS FOR DIVORCE. 

m. 

HE. 

You ever are ready my feelings to hurt 
At the veriest trifle, of course. 

SHE. 

Forgetting a button to sew on your shirt 
You deem a good ground for divorcfe — 

Silly elf! — 
You deem a good ground for divorce ! 

rv. 

HE. 

Well, marriage a lottery is, and a blank 
Some men surely draw all their lives. 

SHE. 

Such fellows as you, sir, themselves have to thank 
Good husbands make always good wives — 

Silly elf! — 
Good husbands make always good wives ! 



TEMPERANCE SONG- 203 



TEMPERANCE SONG. 
(written fok the lady by whom it was sung.) 



Air — "Some love to roam." 



Some love to stroll where the wassail-bowl 

And the wine-cups circle free ; 
None of that band shall win my hand : 

No ! a sober spouse for me. 
Like cheerful streams when morning beams, 

With him my life would flow ; 
Not down the crags, the drunkard drags 

His wife to want and wo ! 
Oh ! no, no, no ! — oh ! no, no, no ! 

n. 

At midnight dark, the drunkard mark — 
Oh, what a sight, good lack ! 

As home draws near, to him appear 
Grim fiends who cross his track ! 



204 TEMPERANCE SONG. 



His children's name he dooms to shame ■ 

His wife to want and wo ; 
She is betrayed, for wine is made 

Her rival and her foe. 
Oh ! no, no, no ! — oh ! no, no, no ! 



BOAT-SONG. 205 



BOAT-SONG. 



Pull away merrily — over the waters! 

Tug to your oars for the wood-tangled shore ; 
We 're off and afloat with earth's loveliest daughters, 

Worth all the argosies wave ever bore. 
Pull away gallantly — pull away valiantly — 

Pull with a swoop, boys ; and pull for the shore : 
Merrily, merrily, bend to the oar ! 

n. 

Pull away cheerily! — land is before us — 

Green groves are flinging their balm to the spray ; 

The sky, like the spirit of love, bending o'er us. 
Lights her bright torches to show us the way. 

Pull away charily — pull away warily — 
Pull with a nerve, boys ; together give way : 
Merrily, merrily, pull to the lay I 



206 BOAT-SONG. 



m. 



Pull away heartily — liglit winds are blowing, 
Crisping tlie ripples that dance at our side ; 

The moon bathes in silver the path we are going, 
And Night is arrayed in her robes like a bride. 

Pull away readily — pull away steadily — 
Pull with a will, boys, and sing as we glide 
Merrily, merrily, over the tide ! 



WILLIE. 207 



WILLIE. 



I CLASP your hand in mine, Willie, 

And fancy I've the art 
To see, while gazing in your face, 

What's passing in your heart : 
'Tis joy an honest man to hold. 

That gem of modest worth. 
More prized than all the sordid gold 

Of all the mines of earth, Wilhe, 
Of all the mines of earth. 



n. 

I 've marked your love of right, Willie, 
Tour proud disdain of wrong ; 

I know you'd rather aid the weak 
Than battle for the strong. 



208 WILLIE. 

The golden rule — religion's stay — 
"With constancy pursue, 

Whicli renders others all that they 
On earth can render you, Willie, 
On earth can render you. 



m. 

A conscience void of guile, Willie, 

A disposition kind, 
A nature, gentle and sincere. 

Accomplished and refined : 
A mind that was not formed to bow, 

An aspiration high. 
Are written on your calm, clear brow, 

And in your cheerful eye, AVillie, 
And in your cheerful eye. 



IV. 

I never look at you, Willie, 
But with an anxious prayer 

That you will ever be to me 
What now I know you are. 



WILLIE. 209 



I do not find a fault to cMde, 

A foible to annoy, 
For you are all your father's pride, 

And all your mother's joy, Willie 
And all your mother's joy. 



V. 

You're aU that I could hope, Willie, 

And more than I deserve ; 
Your pressure of affection now 

I feel in every nerve. 
I love you — not for station — land — 

But for yourself alone : 
And this is why I clasp your hand, 

So fondly in my own, Willie, 
So fondly in my own. 



18* 



210 THE ROCK OF THE PILGRIMS. 



THE EOCK OF THE PILGRIMS. 



A EOCK in the wilderness -welcomed our sires, 

From bondage far over the dark-rolKng sea ; 
On that hoi J altar they kindled the fires, 

Jehovah, which glow in our bosoms for Thee. 
Thy blessings descended in sunshine and shower, 

Or rose from the soil that was sown by Thy hand ; 
The mountain and valley rejoiced in Thy power. 

And Heaven encircled and smiled on the land. 

n. 
The Pilgrims of old an example have given 

Of mild resignation, devotion and love. 
Which beams like the star in the blue vault of heaven, 

A beacon-hght swung in their mansion above. 
In church and cathedral we kneel in our prayer — 

Their temple and chapel were valley and hill — 
But God is the same in the aisle or the air, 

And He is the Rock that we lean upon still. 




^^n^A 



IV. 



Hearts that love like mine forget not ; 

They 're the same in weal or wo ; 
And that star of memory set not 

In the grave of years ago. 



THE SOLDIER'S WELCOME HOME. 213 



THE SOLDIER'S WELCOME HOME. 

(WKITTEN UPON THE EETUEN OF GENERAL SCOTT FROM HIS 
BRILLIANT MEXICAN CAMPAIGN.) 



Victorious the hero returns from the wars, 

His brow bound with laurels that never will fade, 
While streams the free standard of stripes and of stars. 

Whose field in the battle the foeman dismayed. 
When the Mexican hosts in their fury came on. 

Like a tower of strength in his might he arose ; 
Where danger most threatened his banner was borne. 

Waving hope to his friends and despair to his foes ! 

n. 

The soldier of honour and liberty hail ! 

His deeds in the temple of Fame are enrolled ; 
His precepts, like flower-seeds sown by the gale, 

Take root in the hearts of the valiant and bold. 



214: THE SOLDIER'S WELCOME HOME. 

The warrior's escutcheon his foes seek to blot, 
But vain is the effort of partisan bands — 

For freemen will render full justice to Scott, 
And welcome him home with their hearts in their hands. 



THE ORIGIN OF YANKEE DOODLE. 215 



THE OEIGIN OF YANKEE DOODLE. 



Once on a time old Johnny Bull 

Flew in a raging fury, 
And swore that Jonathan should have 

No trials, sir, by jury ; 
That no elections should be held 

Across the briny waters : 
"And now," said he, "I'll tax the tea 

Of all his sons and daughters." 
Then down he sate in burly state, 

And blustered like a grandee, 
And in derision made a tune 

Called " Yankee doodle dandy." 
"Yankee doodle" — these are facts — 

" Yankee doodle dandy ; 
My son of wax, your tea I'll tax — 

You — Yankee doodle dandy!" 



n. 

Jolm sent the tea from o'er the sea 

With heavy duties rated ; 
But whether hyson or bohea, 

I never heard it stated. 
Then Jonathan to pout began — 

He laid a strong embargo — 
"I'll drink no tea, by Jove !" — so he 

Threw overboard the cargo. 
Next Johnny sent an armament, 

Big looks and words to bandy. 
Whose martial band, when near the land, 

Played — "Yankee doodle dandy." 
"Yankee doodle — keep it up ! 

Yankee doodle dandy ! 
I'll poison with a tax your cup — 

You — Yankee doodle dandy!" 



in. 

A long war then they had, in which 
John was at last defeated ; 

And " Yankee doodle" was the march 
To which his troops retreated. 

Young Jonathan, to see them fly, 
Could not restrain his laughter : 



THE ORIGIN OF YANKEE DOODLE. 217 



" That tune," said he, " suits to a T, 

I'll sing it ever after !" 
Old Johnny's face, to his disgrace, 

AVas flushed with beer and brandy, 
E'en while he swore to sing no more 

This — "Yankee doodle dandy." 
Yankee doodle — ho! ha! he! 

Yankee doodle dandy — 
"We kept the tune, but not the tea, 

Yankee doodle dandy ! 



IV. 



I've told you now the origin 

Of this most lively ditty, 
Which Johnny Bull pronounces " dull 

And silly !" — what a pity ! 
"With " Hail Columbia !" it is sung, 

In chorus full and hearty — 
On land and main we breathe the strain, 

John made for his tea-party. 
No matter how we rhyme the words, 

The music speaks them handy, 
And where 's the fair can't sing the air 

Of "Yankee doodle dandy!" 



19 



218 THE ORIGIN OF YANKEE DOODLE. 

"Yankee doodle — firm and true — 

Yankee doodle dandy, 
Yankee doodle, doodle doo ! 

Yankee doodle dandy !" 



LINES. 219 



LINES 

ON THE BUEIAL OF MKS. MARY L. WARD, AT DALE CEME- 
TERY, SING-SING, MAY 3, 1853. 



The knell was tolled — the requiem sung, 
The solemn burial-service read ; 

And tributes from the heart and tongue 
Were rendered to the dead. 

n. 

The dead ? — Eeligion answers, " No ! 

She is not dead — she cannot die ! 
A Christian left this vale of wo ! — 

An angel lives on high !" 

m. 
The earth upon her coffin-lid 

Sounded a hollow, harsh adieu ! 
The mound arose, and she was hid 

For ever from the view ! 



220 LI^-ES. 



IV. 



For ever? — Drearily the thought 

Passed, like an ice-bolt, through the brain ; 
When Faith the recollection brought 

That we shall meet again. 

V. 

Tlie mourners wound their silent way 
Adown the mountain's gentle slope, 

"Which, basking in tlie smile of May, 
Looked cheerfully as hope. 

VI. 

As hope? — What hope? — That boundless One 
God in His love and mercy gave ; 

Which brightens, with salvation's sun. 
The darkness of the grave. 



NEW- YORK IN 182 6, 221 



NEW-YORK IK 1826. 

(address of the carrier of the NEW-YORK MIRROR, ON 
THE FIRST DAY OF THAT YEAR.) 

AiK — "Songs of Shepherds in Rustical Roundelays." 



Two years have elapsed since the verse of s. w. 

Met your bright eyes like a fanciful gem ; 
"With that kind of stanza the muse will now trouble you, 

She often frolics with one g. p. m. 
As New Year approaches, she whispers of coaches. 

And lockets and broaches, without any end. 
Of sweet rosy pleasure, of joy without measure. 

And plenty of leisure to share with a friend. 

n. 

Tis useless to speak of the griefs of society — 

They overtake us in passing along ; 
And public misfortunes, in all their variety, 

Need not be told in a holiday song. 



The troubles of Wall-street, I'm sure that you all meet. 
And they 're not at all sweet — but look at their pranks. 

Usurious cravings, and discounts and shavings, 
With maniac ravings and Lombardy banks. 



ni. 



'Tis useless to speak of our dealers in cotton too. 

Profits and losses but burden the lay ; 
The failure of merchants should now be forgotten too, 

Nor sadden the prospects of this festive day. 
Though Fortune has cheated the hope near completed, 

And cruelly treated the world mercantile, 
The poet's distresses, when Fortune oppresses. 

Are greater, he guesses — but still he can smile. 



IV. 

'Tis useless to speak of the gas-light so beautiful, 

Shedding its beams through " the mist of the night ;" 
Eagles and tigers and elephants, dutiful. 

Dazzle the vision with columns of light. 
The lamb and the lion — ask editor Try on. 

His word yon '11 rely on — are seen near the Park, 
From which such lights flow out, as wind cannot blow out, 

Yet often they go out, and all's in the dark. 



NEW-YORK IN 18 26. 223 



'Tis useless to speak of the seats on the Battery, 

They're too expensive to give to the town ; 
Then our aldermen think it such flattery, 

If the public have leave to sit down ! 
Our fortune to harden, they show Castle Garden — 

Kind muses, your pardon ; but rhyme it I must — 
Where soldiers were drilling, you now must be willing 

To pay them a shilling — so down with the dust. 

VI. 

'Tis uselesss to speak of our writers poetical, 

Of Halleck and Bryant and "Woodworth, to write ; 
There are others, whose trades are political — 

Snowden and Townsend and Walker and Dwight. 
There's Lang the detector, and Coleman the hector. 

And Noah the protector and judge of the Jews, 
And King the accuser, and Stone the abuser, 

And Grim the confuser of morals and news. 

VII. 

'Tis useless to speak of the many civilities 
Shown to Fayette in tliis country of late, 

Or even to mention tlie splendid abilities 
Clinton possesses for ruling the state. 



224 NEW-YORK IN 18 26. 



The union of water and Erie's bright daughter, 

Since Neptune has caught her they '11 sever no more ; 

And Greece and her troubles (the rhyme always doubles) 
Have vanished like bubbles that burst on the shore. 



VIII. 



'Tis useless to speak of Broadway and the Bowery, 

Both are improving and growing so fast ! 
"Who would have thought that old Stuyvesant's dowery 

"Would hold in its precincts a play-house at last ? 
Well, wonder ne'er ceases, but daily increases, 

And pulling to pieces, the town to renew, 
So often engages the thoughts of our sages. 

That when the fit rages, what will they not do ? 



IX. 



'Tis useless to speak of the want of propriety 

In forming our city so crooked and long ; 
Our ancestors, bless them, were fond of variety — 

It 's naughty to say that they ever were wrong ! 
Tho' strangers may grumble, and thro' the streets stumble, 

Take care they don't tumble through crevices small. 
For trap-doors we 've plenty, on sidewalk and entry. 

And no one stands sentry to see they don't fall. 



'Tis useless to speak of amusements so various, 

Of opera-singers that few understand ; 
Of Kean's reputation, so sadly precarious 

"When he arrived in this prosperous land. 
The public will hear liim — and hark ! how they cheer him ! 

Though editors jeer him — we all must believe 
He pockets the dollars of sages and scholars : 

Of course then it follows — he laughs in his sleeve. 



XI. 



'Tis useless to speak — but just put on your spectacles, 

Read about Chatham, and Peale's splendid show : 
There 's Scudder and Dunlap — they both have receptacles 

Which, I assure you, are now all the go. 
'Tis here thought polite too, should giants delight you, 

And they should invite you, to look at their shapes ; 
To visit their dwelling, where Indians are yelling. 

And handbills are telling of wonderful apes ! 

xn. 

'Tis useless to speak of the din that so heavily 
Fell on our senses as midnight drew near ; 

Trumpets and bugles and conch-shells, ko cleverly 
Sounded the welkin with happy New Year! 



226 NEW-YORK IN 182 6. 



With jewsharps and timbrels, and musical thimbles, 
Tin-platters for cymbals, and frying-pans too ; 

Dutch-ovens and brasses, and jingles and glasses, 
With reeds of all classes, together they blew ! 



xra. 



Then since it is useless to speak about anything 

All have examined and laid on the shelf. 
Perhaps it is proper to say now and then a thing 

Touching the "Mieeor" — the day — and myself. 
Our work's not devoted, as you may have noted, 

To articles quoted from books out of print ; 
Instead of the latter, profusely we scatter 

Original matter that's fresh from the mint. 



XIV. 

Patrons, I greet you with feelings of gratitude ; 

Ladies, to please you is ever my care — 
Nor wish I, on earth, for a sweeter beatitude, 

If I but bask in the smiles of the fair. 
Such bliss to a poet is precious — you know it — 

And while you bestow it, the heart feels content : 
Your bounty has made us, and still you will aid us, 

But some have not paid us — we hope they'll repent! 



N E W - Y O II K IX 18 2 6. 227 

XV. 

For holiday pleasure, why these are the times for it ; 

Pardon, me, then, for so trifling a lay ; 
This stanza shall end it, if I can find rhymes for it — 

May you, dear patrons, be happy to-day ! 
Though life is so fleeting, and pleasure so cheating, 

That we are oft meeting with accidents here, 
Should Fate seek to dish you, oh then may the issue 

Be what I now wish you — a happy new year! 



228 THE HERO'S LEGACY. 



THE HEEO'S LEGACY. 

Upon the couch of death, 

The champion of the free, 
Gave, with his parting breath, 

This solemn legacy : 
" Sheathed be the battle-blade, 

" And hushed the cannon's thunder : 
" The glorious Union God hath made, 

" Let no man put asunder ! 
" "War banish from the land, 

" Peace cultivate with all ! 
" United you must stand, 

" Divided you will fall ! 
" Cemented with our blood, 

" The Union keep unriven !" 
While freemen heard this counsel good. 

His spirit soared to heaven. 



WHAT CAN IT MEAN? 229 



WHAT CAN IT MEAN? 

(written for miss POOLE, AND SUNG BY HEK IN THE 
CHARACTER OF COWSLIP.) 

I. 

I'm mucli too yonng to maiTj, 

For I am only seventeen ; 
Why think I, then, of Harry ? 

What can it mean — what can it mean? 

n. 
Wherever Harry meets me, 

Beside the brook or on the green, 
How tenderly he greets me ! 

What can it mean — what can it mean? 

in. 
Whene'er my name he utters, 

A blush upon my cheek is seen ! — 
His voice my bosom flutters ! — 

What can it mean — what can it mean? 



20 



230 WHAT CAN IT MEAN? 

IV. 

If he but mentions Cupid, 

Or, smiling, calls me " fairy queen," 

I sigh, and look so stupid ! — 

What can it mean — what can it mean? 



Oh, mercy ! what can ail me ? 

I 'm growing wan and very lean ; 
My spirits often fail me ! 

What can it mean — what can it mean? 

VI. 

I 'm not in love ! — No ! — Smother 

Such a thought at seventeen ! 
I'll go and ask my mother — 

" What can it mean — what can it mean?" 



THE STORY OF A SONG. 231 



THE STORY OF A SONG. 

(contained in a lettek to a fkiend who kequested the 

HISTORY OF MY MOTHEk's BIBLE.) 



I WROTE the song for Russell, 

When I was poor and sad, 
About " My Mother's Bible" — 

The only thing I had — 
Which sold for fifty dollars. 

Much to his heart's content : 
He put them in his pocket — 

I never had a cent I 

n. 

One day some Yankee minstrels, 
The Hutchinsons by name, 

Reset "My Mother's Bible" — 
(The tune was much the same) — 



232 THE STORY OF A SONG. 

Wliich sold for forty dollars, 
As sure as you 're alive ; 

And, like true-hearted fellows, 
They gave me twenty-five ! 

m. 

These facts alone, believe me, 

Unto the words belong — 
The rest is all invented 

To make a little song. 
Don't set these lines to music. 

Unless — excuse the laugh — 
You sell them, like good fellows, 

And give the poet — half! 



WHERE HUDSON'S WAVE. 233 



WHERE HUDSON'S WAVE. 



Where Hudson's wave o'er silvery sands 

Winds through the hills afar, 
Old Cronest like a monarch stands, 

Crowned with a single star ! 
And there, amid the billowy swells 

Of rock-ribbed, cloud-capped earth, 
My fair and gentle Ida dwells, 

A nymph of mountain-birth. 

n. 

The snow-flake that the cliff receives. 

The diamonds of the showers, 
Spring's tender blossoms, buds and leaves, 

The sisterhood of flowers, 
Mom's early beam, eve's balmy breeze, 

Her purity define ; 
Yet Ida 's dearer far than these 

To this fond breast of mine. 



20* 



234 WHERE HUDSON'S WAVE. 

in. 
My heart is on the hills. The shades 

Of night are on my brow : 
Ye pleasant haunts and quiet glades, 

My soul is with you now ! 
I bless the star-crowned highlands where 

My Ida's footsteps roam : 
O for a falcon's wing to bear 

Me onward to my home I 



AU RE VOIR! 235 



AU KEYOIE! 

I. 

Love left one day his leafy bower, 

And roamed in sportive vein, 
Where Vanity had built a tower. 

For Fashion's sparkling train. 
The mistress to see he requested. 

Of one who attended the door : 
" Not home," said the page, who suggested 

That he'd leave his card. — "J.w revoir." 

n. 
Love next came to a lowly bower : 

A maid who knew no guile. 
Unlike the lady of the tower, 

Received him with a smile. 
Since then the cot beams with his brightness, 

Though often at Vanity's door 
Love calls, merely out of politeness, 

And just leaves his card. — ^^Au revoir !" 



236 EPIGRAMS— EPITAPH. 



EPIGKAMS. 
I. 

ON READING GKIm's ATTACK UPON CLINTON. 

'Tis the opinion of the town 

That Grim 's a silly elf : 
In trying to write Clinton down, 

He went right down himself. 

n. 

ON HEARING THAT MORSE DID NOT " INVENt" THE TELEGRAPH. 

First they said it would not do ; 

But, when he got through it, 
Then they vowed they always knew 

That he didn't do it ! 
Lies are rolling stones, of course. 
But they can't adhere to Morse. 



EPITAPH. 

All that's beautiful in woman, 
All we in her nature love, 

All that's good in all that's human, 
Passed this gate to courts above. 



THEATRICAL ADDRESSES. 237 



A D D E E S S 

FOR THE BENEFIT OF WILLIAM DUNLAP. 

(spoken by mks. shakpe.) 

What gay assemblage greets my wondering sight ! 

What scene of splendour — conjured here to-night! 

What voices murmur, and what glances gleam ! 

Sure 'tis some flattering, unsubstantial dream. 

The house is crowded — everybody's here 

For beauty famous, or to science dear ; 

Doctors and lawyers, judges, belles and beaux, 

Poets and painters — and Heaven only knows 

Whom else beside! — And see, gay ladies sit, 

Lighting with smiles that fearful place, the pit — 

(A fairy change — ah, pray continue it.) 

Gray heads are here too, listening to my rhymes, 

Full of the spirit of departed times ; 

Grave men and studious, strangers to my sight. 

All gather round me on this brilliant night. 



238 THEATRICAL ADDRESSES. 

And welcome are ye all. Not now ye come 

To speak some trembling poet's awful doom ; 

With frowning eyes a " want of mind" to trace 

In some new actor's inexperienced face, 

Or e'en ns old ones (oh, for shame !) to rate 

"With study good — in time — but — never great:" 

Not like yon travelled native, just to say 

" Folks in this country cannot act a play — 

They can't, 'pon honour !" How the creature starts ! 

His wit and whiskers came from foreign parts ! 

Nay, madam, spare your blushes — you I mean — 

There — close beside him — oh, you're full nineteen — 

You need not shake your flowing locks at me — 

The man, your sweetheart — then I'm dumb, you see; 

I'll let him off — you'll punish him in time, 

Or I 've no skill in prophecy or rhyme ! 

A nobler motive fills your bosoms now. 

To wreathe the laurel round the silvered brow 

Of one who merits it — if any can — 

The artist, author and the honest man. 

With equal charms his pen and pencil drew 

Bright scenes, to nature and to virtue true. 

Full oft upon these boards hath youth appeared, 

And oft your smiles his faltering footsteps cheered ; 

But not alone on budding genius smile. 

Leaving the ripened sheaf unowned the while ; 



THEATRICAL ADDRESSES. 



239 



To boyish hope not every bounty give, 
And only youth and beauty bid to live. 
Will you forget the services long past— 

Turn the old war-horse out to die at last? 

When, his proud strength and noble fleetness o'er, 
His faithful bosom dares the charge no more ! 
Ah, no !— The sun that loves his beams to shed 
Eound every opening floweret's tender head, 
With smiles as kind his genial radiance throws 
To cheer the sadness of the fading rose : 
Thus he, whose merit claims this dazzling crowd 
Points to the past, and has his claims allowed ; 
Looks brightly forth, his faithful journey done, 
And rests in triumph — like the setting sun. 



240 THEATRICAL ADDRESSES. 



ADDRESS 

FOR THE BENEFIT OF JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES. 
(spoken by mks. chapman.) 

Nay, Mr Simpson! — 'Tis not kind — polite — 
To shut me out, sir? — I'm in such a fright! — 
I cannot speak the lines, I'm sure ! — Oh, fie ! 
To say I must ! — but if I must — I'll try ! 

From him I turn to these more generous souls. 
The drama's patrons and the friends of Knowles. 
Why, what a brilliant galaxy is here ! 
"What stars adorn this mimic hemisphere ! 
Names that shine brightest on our country's page ! 
The props of science — literature — the stage! 
Above — below — around me — woman smiles, 
The fairest floweret of these western wilds — 
All come to pay tlie tribute of their praise 
To the first dramatist of modern days : 



THEATRICAL ADDRESSES. 241 

And welcome, to the green home of the free, 
With heart and hand, the bard of liberty ! 

His is a wizard-wand. Its potent spell 
Broke the deep slumber of the patriot Tell, 
And placed him on his native hills again, 
The pride and glory of his fellow-men ! 
The poet speaks — for Rome Virginia bleeds! 
Bold Cains Gracchus in the forum pleads ! 
Alfred — the Great, because the good and wise. 
Bids prostrate England burst her bonds and rise ! 
Sweet Bess, the Beggar's Daughter, beauty's queen, 
"Walks forth the joy and wonder of the scene ! 
The Hunchback enters — -kindly — fond — severe — 
And last, behold the glorious "Wife appear ! 

These are the bright creations of a mind 
Glowing with genius, cliastened and refined. 
In all he 's written, be this praise his lot : 
"Not one word, dying, would he wish to blot!" 

Upon my life 'tis no such easy thing 
To laud the bard, unless an eagle's wing 
My muse would take ; and, fixing on the sun 
Her burning eye, soar as his own has done ! 

Did you speak, sir? — "What, madam, did he say? 
"Wrangling ! — for shame ! — before your wedding-day ! 



21 



242 THEATRICAL ADDRESSES. 

IsTay, gentle lady, by thine eyes of blue, 

And vermeil blushes, I did not mean you ! 

Bless me, what friends at every glance I see ! 

Artists and authors — men of high degree; 

Grave politicians, who have weighed each chance — 

The next election, and the war with France ; 

Doctors, just come from curing half a score — 

And belles, from killing twice as many more ; 

Judges, recorders, aldermen and mayors, 

Seated, like true republicans, down stairs ! 

All wear a glow of sunshine in their faces 

Might well become Apollo and the graces, 

Except one yonder, with a look infernal, 

Like a blurred page from Fanny Kemble's Journal ! 

But to my task. The muse, when I began, 
Spoke of the writer — welcome ye the man. 
Genius, at best, acts but an humble part, 
Unless obedient to an honest heart. 
And such a one is his, for whom, to-night. 
These walls are crowded with this cheering sight. 
Ye love the poet — oft have conned him o'er 
Knew ye the man, ye 'd love him ten times more. 
Te critics, spare him from your tongue and quill ; 
Ye gods, applaud him ; and ye fops — be still ! 



ADDRESS 
FOR THE BENEFIT OF HENRY PLACIDE 

(spoken by MRS. HILSON.) 

The music 's done. Be quiet, Mr. Durie ! 
Tour bell and whistle put me in a fury ! 
Don't ring up yet, sir — I've a word to say 
Before the curtain rises for the play ! 

Tour pardon, gentlefolks, nor think me bold, 
Because I thus our worthy prompter scold : 
'Twas all feigned anger. This enlightened age 
Requires a ruse to bring one on the stage ! 

Well, here I am, quite dazzled with the sight 
Presented on this brilliant festal night ! 
"Where'er I turn, whole rows of patrons sit — 
The house is full — box, gallery and pit! 
Who says the New-Tork public are unkind ? 
I know them well, and plainly speak my mind — 



244 THEATRICAL ADDRESSES. 

"It is o^^r right," the ancient poet sung — 
He knew the vahie of a woman's tongue ! 
With this I will defend ye — and rehearse 
Five glorious acts of yours — in modern verse; 
Each one concluding with a generous deed 
For Dunlap, Cooper, Woodworth, Knowles, Placide ! 
'Twas nobly done, ye patriots and scholars! 
Besides — they netted twenty thousand dollars! 
"A good round sum," in these degenerate times — 
" This bank-note world," so called in Halleck's rhymes ; 
And proof conclusive, you will frankly own, 
In liberal actions New- York stands alone. 

Though roams he oft 'mong green poetic bowers, 
The actor's path is seldom strewn with flowers. 
His is a silent, secret, patient toil — 
While others sleep, he burns the midnight oil — 
Pores o'er his books — thence inspiration draws, 
And wastes his life to merit your applause ! 
O ye, who come the laggard hours to while. 
And with the laugh-provoking muse to smile. 
Remember this : the mirth that cheers you so, 
Shows but the surface — not the depths below ! 
Then judge not lightly of the actor's art. 
Who smiles to please you, with a breaking heart I 
Neglect him not in his hill-climbing course, 
Nor treat him with less kindness than your horse : 



THEATRICAL ADDRESSES. 245 

Up hill, indulge him — down the deep descent, 

Spare — and don't urge him when his strength is spent ; 

Impel him briskly o'er the level earth. 

But in the stable don't forget his worth ! 

So with the actor — while you work him hard, 

Be mindful of his claims to your regard. 

But hold! — methinks some carping cynic here 
Will greet my homely image with a sneer. 
Well — let us see — I would the monster view : 
Man with umbrageous whiskers, is it you ? 
Ah, no — I was mistaken : every brow 
Beams with benevolence and kindness now ; 
Beauty and fashion all the circles grace — 
And scowling Envy here were out of place ! 
On every side the wise and good appear — 
The very pillars of the state are here ! 
There sit the doctors of the legal clan ; 
There all the city's rulers, to a man ; 
Critics and editors, and learned m. d.'s, 
Buzzing and busy, like a hive of bees ; 
And there, as if to keep us all in order, 
Our worthy friends the Mayor and the Kecorder ! 

Well, peace be with you ! Friends of native worth, 
Yours is the power to call it into birth ; 



21* 



246 THEATRICAL ADDRESSES. 

Yours is the genial influence smiles upon 
The budding flowerets opening to the sun. 
They all around us court your fostering hand — 
Rear them with care, in beauty they'll expand - 
With grateful odours well repay your toil, 
Equal to those sprung from a foreign soil ; 
And more Placides bask in your sunshine then, 
The first of actors and the best of men. 



THE 

MAID OF SAXONY: 

OR, 

WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 

AN 

OPERA IN THREE ACTS. 



FOUNDED UPON HISTORICAL EVENTS IN THE LIFE OF FREDERICK THE SECOND OF 

PRUSSIA, RELATED BY MISS EDGEWORTH, ZIMMERMANN, LATROBE, 

AND OTHER WRITERS. 



THE MUSIC 
(With the exception of three German Melodies, and the characteristic Introduction) 

COMPOSED BY 

CHARLES E. HORN. 



THE LIBRETTO BY GEORGE P. MORRIS. 



The Scenery by Messrs. Hillyard, Wheatley, and Assistants. 

The Costumes by M. Louis. 

The Properties ami Decorations by M. Dejonge. 

The Machinery by M. Speyebs. 

The Orchestra increased, and the Choruses full and effective. 

Leader of tlie Orchestra and Chorus-Master M. Chubb. 

The Music produced under the direction of Mr. C. E. Horn. 

Stage-Manager Mr. Baert. 



DRAMATIS PERSONJl. 



Fkederick II. {King of Prussia) Mr. Chippendale. 

Count Laniska {his Aid-de-Camp, a Pole) Mr. Manvebs. 

AiBERT {a young Saxon student-at-law) Mr. Fredericks. 

Karl {a Hungarian, Packer to the Royal Factory) Mr. C. E. Horn. 

"Wedgewood {an English Merchant) Mr. Placide. 

Baron Altenberg {Attorney- General) Mr. Bakry. 

Judge of the Court Mr. Clark. 

Hans {an Innkeeper) Mr. Andrews. 

Harold {an old Sergeant of Grenadier-^ Mr. Seguin. 

Corporal of Gicenadiers {old man) Mr. Fisher, 

Burgomaster Mr. Povey. 

Jailor of the Castle of Spandau Mr. Bellamy. 

Herald Mr. Nelson. 

First General Mr. King. 

Second General Mr. Gallot. 

Staff-Officers, Officers of State, Workmen of the Factory, Citizens, Advocates, 
Jurymen, Grenadiers, Peasants, Travellers, Servants, d'c. 

Countess Laniska Mrs. Barry. 

Frederica {her Daughter) Mrs. Knight. 

Sophia Mansfield {the Saxon Maid) Mrs. C. E. Horn. 

Gertrude Mas Mary Taylor. 

Ladies of the Court, Factory- Girls, Peasants, &c. 



Scene — Berlin and Potsdam, 

Time — Latter part of the reign of Frederick the Great. 




[F (S E E) E !H 



THE MAID OF SAXONY. 



ACT I. 

SCENE I. 

Inside of a Qerman Inn, on the road to Berlin. Fire 
and ccmdles nearly extinguished. Clock in the corner, 
marking the hour of ten. Hans seated in an arm- 
chair, asleep. Music. The curtain rises to the open- 
ing symphony. Hans yaw7is in his sleep. 
{Enter Gekteude.) 

GERTKUDE. 

Ho ! Hans ! — Why, Hans ! — You Hans, I say ! 
Awake! — Here '11 be the deuce to pay! 
For coming guests get fire and lights, 
And help me put the room to rights ! 

(Hans stretches and yawns) 
Hans! — I've no patience with the lout! 
What, Hans, on earth are you about? 

{Shakes Hans, loho yawns again.) 



Did ever room look so forlorn ? 
Hans ! — Hark ! I hear the postman's horn ! 
{Sounds of a horn in the distance. Haijs st/r etches, yawns, 
and rises.) 

HANS. 

What der tuyvel is der matter, 
Dus you chitter — chatter — clatter? 

GERTKUDE (aside.) 
His impudence cannot be borne ! 

HANS. 

What's dat I hear? 

GEETKUDE. 

The postman's horn ! 

{Soiinds of horn again.) 
Whose notes o'er moor and mountain flung — 

HANS. 

Are not so noisy as your tongue ! 

{Horn sounds as though approaching / whips are heard, 
and the post-coach is siqjposed to arrive outside with 
Passengers. Enter the Attendants, with portmanteaus, 
carpet-hags, (&g., and Passengers.) 

CHOEIJS. 

Kejoice! rejoice! we're safe and sound. 
And shelter for the night have found, 
Within this snug abode ! 



Scene I.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 253 

The dust may rise, the rain may fall — 
Beneath this roof we '11 smile at all 
The dangers of the road! 

SOLO. 

Then let the cheerful board be spread ; 
To supper first, and then to bed, 

Till birds their songs begin : 
Thus, whether sleeping or awake. 
The weary traveller will take 

His comfort at his inn. 

CHORUS. 

Rejoice! rejoice! we 're safe, &c. 

\_Exit Passengers and Attendants. 

GERTKtTDE. 

"Where in the world are all these people going to, Hans ? 

HANS. 

To Berlin, to shee der troops. Frederick musters dem 
to-morrow at der capital. But why don't you attend to 
der guests ? 

GEKTEUDE. 

Why don't you ? You are not fit to keep an inn, Hans. 

HANS. 

I was not prought up to it ; mine pishiness was to keep 
a paint-shop, and shell der colours to der artists. 

GERTRUDE. 

Don't stand here chattering about your fine colours — 
but look to the guests — 



22 



254 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Aor L 

HANS. 

Yaw, yaw, mein fraulein. 

ALBERT {without.) 

Ho ! landlord ! — "Waiters, look to our luggage ! 

WKDGEwooD {spedkiug as he enters^ 
If it is convenient. 

{Enter Albeet and Wedgewood in cloaks., hriskly) 

GERTKUDE. 

This way, gentlemen, this way. 

ALBERT. 

Two bed-chambers, landlord, as soon as possible. 

HANS. 

Yaw, mynheer. 

{Gives dirccUons to Attendant, who exits.) 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Landlady, take care of my coat and stick, and here's 
something for your pains. 

GERTRUDE. 

Yes, sir. 

WEDGEWOOD {J^ooTcing at her.) 
"What a pretty girl ! 

GERTRUDE. 

Is that all, sir ? 

WEDGEWOOD {aside to gertrude.) 
No, that's not all. {Kisses her.) Take this into the 
bargain, you jade ! 



Scene I.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 265 

GERTRUDE {courtesies.) 
Thank you, sir. (Aside.) "What a nice, queer old gen- 
tleman ! 

HANS {taking her away passionately.) 

What 's dat to you ? Give me der tings {takes them.) 
You do noding but ogle mit der young folks, and flirt 
mit der old ones ! 

GERTRTJDE. 

Oh, you jealous brute ! [Moit in a huff. 

WEDGEwooD {noticing her.) 
Nice girl that — odd, too, that she should have married 
a man old enough to be her grandfather ! 
HANS {aside.) 
Dat queer chap in der brown vig I'm sure is a gay 
deceiver, or he would not admire mine vife so much. I 
must have mine eyes about me. [Msit. 

WEDGEWOOD {noticing hans and gerteude.) 
Odd, very odd, very odd indeed! But now that we 
are aione, pray continue the narrative you commenced 
in the coach — if it is convenient. 

ALBERT. 

Right willingly. Frederick, after his conquest of Sax- 
ony, transported by force several manufacturers from 
Dresden to Berlin, where he has established a Porcelain- 
Factory — 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Separated from their friends, home, and country, these 



256 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act I. 

unfortunate people are compelled to continue their la- 
bours for the profit and glory of their conqueror — I know 
it — go on — 

ALBERT. 

Among those in bondage is Sophia Mansfield — 

WEDGEWOOD. 

I have heard of her: — a young, beautiful and singu- 
larly-gifted girl — 

ALBERT. 

Several pieces of her design and modelling were shown 
to the king, when he was at Meissen, in Saxony ; and he 
was so struck with their beauty, that he determined to 
convey the artist, with other prisoners, to his capital — 

WEDGEWOOD. 

"Where he issued his royal edict, compelling the girls 
of the factory to marry Prussian soldiers. Unfeelingly 
odd! 

ALBERT. 

Sophia has yet escaped this tyranny. The overseer, 
however, has demanded her hand ; but I shall be in time 
to thwart his purposes. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

But, to effect that, you must also thwart the purposes 
of Frederick himself, who, I understand, is as stubborn 
as he is bold. 

ALBERT. 

Count Laniska has won Sophia's affections, and love is 
a power that cannot be controlled. 



Scene I.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 257 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Veritably odd ! 

ALBERT. 

You are on your way to the factory — have you free 
admission for yourself and friends ? 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Indubitably. 

ALBERT. 

Then we will, with your permission, visit it together. 
{Aside.) In this disguise, and under the name of Wor- 
rendorf, I may pass unnoticed. 

{He-enter Hans, with trunks^ cfec, and Gertrude.) 

WEDGEWOOD. 

It is growing late. After the fatigues of the journey, 
I need repose. 

ALBERT. 

And so do I. G-ood-night ! 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Good-night ! \JExit Albert ; Gertrude takes a lighted 
ca/ndle from the table, ojid shows the way / Wedgewood 
takes a light.'\ Do you rise early, friend ? 

HANS. 

No, mynheer; but mine vife does — 

WEDGEWOOD- 

Then tell your wife to knock at my door early in the 
morning. 



22* 



258 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act L 

HAjsrs {eying him and looking susjpiciously.) 
So lio ! I smoke you — 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Then keep farther off with your confounded pipe, you 
Dutch abomination ! 

HANS {laying his finger on his nose.) 
And I schmells a rat. 

WEDGEWOOD (J^ooTcing around.) 
The devil you do ! "Where ? — 

HANS. 

So I vill knock at yourn door myself — 

WEDGEWOOD. 

If it is convenient. {Exit Hans.) A pretty house I 
have got into ! — Smokes me ! — smells a rat ! — The filthy 
Dutchman ! [Exit. 



SCENE II. 

An open cut wood near Berlin. Tents in the distance. 
A military outmost. Enter Harold, Corporal and a 
party of Soldiers, in military undress. 

SONG. 

The life for me is a soldier's life ! 

With that what glories come ! 
The notes of the spirit-stirring fife, 

The roll of the battle-drum : 



Scene II.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 259 



The brilliant array, the bearing high, 

The plumed warriors' tramp ; 
The streaming banners that flout the sky, 

The gleaming pomp of the camp. 

CHOKUS. 

A soldier's life is the life for me ! 

"With that what glories come ! 
The notes of the spirit-stirring fife, 

The roll of the battle-drum ! 

HAROLD. 

So, corporal, at last we are to have a muster of the 
combined forces of the kingdom. 

OOEPOKAL. 

Yes, the king is never so happy as when he has all his 
children, as he calls us, about him. 

HAROLD. 

And plaguy good care he takes of his children ! He 
looks after our domestic as well as our public interests ! 
It was a strange whim in old Fritz to offer each of his 
soldiers one of the factory-girls for a wife ! 

CORPOEAL. 

I wonder the old hero does not marry some of them 
himself. 

HAROLD. 

He would rather look after his soldiers than meddle 
with the fancies of the women — and at his age too ! 



260 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Aor L 

CORPORAJL. 

Nonsense! The king is a boy — a mere boy — of sev- 
enty ! But be does meddle with the women sometimes. 

HAROLD. 

Say you so ? 

CORPORAL. 

Ay, and old ones too. It was but the other day that 
he pensioned a poor widow, whose only son fell in a skir- 
mish at his side. Heaven bless his old cocked hat ! 

HAROLD. 

Yet is it not singular that one so mindful of the rights 
of old women should compel the young ones to toil as 
they do in the factory ? 

CORPORAL. 

Tush, tush, man! — that's none of your concern, nor 
mine. What have we to do with state affairs ? 

HAROLD. 

Right, corporal; and it's not worth while for us to 
trouble our heads about other people's business. 

CORPORAL. 

You're a sensible fellow — 

HAROLD. 

Right again ; and I would return the compliment if 
you did not wear such a flashy watch-riband {looks at it.) 

CORPORAL. 

That's personal! 



Scene II.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 261 

HAROLD. 

I mean it to be so. What the devil do you wear it 
for? 

OOEPOKAL. 

To gratify a whim. I like this riband. It was a pres- 
ent from an old sweetheart of mine. Look what a jaunty 
air it gives one! — and where 's the harm of keeping up 
appearances? — 

HAKOLD. 

What silly vanity ! But let me give you a piece of 
advice: beware of the scrutiny of the king — he has an 
eye like a hawk, old as he is ; and if he should happen 
to spy your watch-riband — 

COEPOEAL. 

Pooh, pooh! he would not notice such a trifle. — But 
who comes yonder ? That Hungarian Karl. Let 's make 
way for him. — He's a fellow I don't fancy. What a 
man to woo and win Sophia Mansfield ! 

HAEOLD. 

He '11 never win her, woo her as he may. Count La- 
niska will look to that. 

[Harold, Corporal and party retire into tents. 

{Enter Karl, in great agitation) 



262 THE MAID OF SAXOKY: [Act L 

SONG KAKL. 

Confusion! — Again rejected 

By the maid I fondly love ! 
Illusion ! — In soul dejected ! 

Jealous fears my bosom move. 
Dear Sophia ! — Hope's deceiver ! 

Whom I love ; but love in vain ! 
Can I to my rival leave her ? — 

INTo — the thought distracts my brain! 

Love — revenge ! — Oh, how I falter! 

Passion's throes unman me quite : 
Now he leads her to the altar — 

How I tremble at the sight ! 
Hold, tormentors ! cease to tear me ! 

All in vain I gasp for breath ! 
Hated rival — scorn I bear thee 

Which can only end in death ! 

(Harold advances.) 

HAROLD. 

Karl, what ails you ? 

KARL {aside.) 
Observed! {To Haeold.) An infirmity I've had from 
my youth upward. I shall be better presently. 

HAROLD. 

You tremble like one with the ague ! 



Scene II.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 263 

KAKL. 

"We Hungarians have not your tough constitution, com- 
rade : besides, the weather is chilly — it freezes me to the 
bone. 

HAEOLD. 

It's the weather within, Karl. Eepair to the factory, 
and sun yourself in the bright eyes of Sophia Mansfield ! 
That will warm you, especially if Count Laniska happens 
to be by to stir up the fire of your jealousy — eh? 

KJlRL. 

You have a sharp wit, which I lack, comrade. 

HAROLD {sarcastically.) 
And I've another thing which you lack — comrade. 

KARL. 

"What may that be ? 

HAEOLD. 

A clear conscience, my old boy ! 

[Exit TTatcold into tent. 

KAKL, 

Does he suspect? No — sleeping and waking I have 
concealed this {his arm) damning evidence of my guilt. 
The mark of Cain I bear about me is known to none, and 
the secret dies with me. — For that young Pole, Sophia 
scorns me; but let him beware! — My revenge, though 
slow, is sure ! 
(Karl turns to go ; hut perceiving Count Laniska advamr 

cing, he retires into a tent. Enter Laniska, Viho no- 

tices Karl in the distance.) 



264 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act L 

SONG L ANISKA. 

When I behold that lowering brow, 

Which indicates the mind within, 
I marvel much that woman's vow 

A man like that could ever win ! 
Yet it is said, in rustic bower, 

(The fable I have often heard) 
A serpent has mysterious power 

To captivate a timid bird. 

This precept then I sadly trace — 

That love 's a fluttering thing of air ; 
And yonder lurks the viper base, 

Who would my gentle bird ensnare ! 
'T was in the shades of Eden's bower 

This fascination had its birth. 
And even there possessed the power 

To lure the paragon of earth ! 

{At the conclusion of the song, Kabl is about to retire. 
Lakiska addresses him.) 

COUNT. 

Come hither, Karl. 

KARL, 

I wait upon your leisure, count. 

COUNT. 

I would have some words with you. 



Scene II.] R, W H 'S T II E T R A I T R? 265 



KARL. 

You may not relish the frankness of my manner. 

COTJNT. 

Indeed ! 

KARL. 

Look you, Count Laniska ; I am a plain, blunt, straight- 
forward, rough-spoken fellow, and a soldier like yourself. 
I know my rights ; and knowing, will maintain them. It 
was by the king's permission and authority that I chose 
Sophia Mansfield for my bride — 

COUNT. 

She has rejected you. 

KAEL. 

What has that to do with the matter? Women are 
often perverse, and not always the best judges of their 
own welfare ; and you know she must be mine — 

COUNT. 

Must? — 

KAEL. 

Yes, must. I have the king's promise, and Frederick 
was never known to break his word. 

COUNT. 

You surely would not marry her against her will? 

KAKL. 

Why not ? Sophia is the only woman I ever loved : 
and now that I have her sure, think you I will resign 
her? 



23 



COUNT. 

And think you the king will force an angel into the 
arms of a monster? He cannot be so great a tyrant — 

KAIiL. 

Tyrant ! 

COUNT. 

Yes. Man was created to cherish woman, not to op- 
press her ; and he is the worst of tyrants who would 
injure that sex whom Heaven ordains it his duty to pro- 
tect. 

KAKL. 

Apply you this to the king ? 

COUNT. 

To the king, or to any he in Christendom, who would 
use his power to oppress the unfortunate ! But come, sir, 
we will not dispute about a hasty word — we have higher 
duties to perform. 

KAKL. 

True, count; we oppose our weapons to the enemies 
of our country, not the bosoms of our friends. I say our 
country ; for, although you were born in Poland, and I 
in Hungary, Frederick has made Prussia almost as dear 
to us as our native land, tyrant though he may be. — But 
we will not quarrel about a single captive, when the king 
has placed so many at the disposal of those who fight his 
battles. [Trumpet sounds without. 



Scene II.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 267 



{Enter Haeold with despatches.) 

HA BOLD {^0 COUNT.) 

Despatches from the king. {Aside.) And a letter from 
Sophia Mansfield. [Exit. 

{The Count receives and examines despatches ; hisses So- 
phia's letter^ and puts it into his losom. Karl does 
not notice it.) 

DUET — COUNT AND KAEL. 

'Tis a soldier's rigid duty 

Orders strictly to obey ; 
Let not, then, the smile of beauty 

Lure us from the camp away. 
In our country's cause united. 

Gallantly we '11 take the field ; 
But, the victory won, delighted 

Singly to the fair we yield ! 

Soldiers who have ne'er retreated, 

Beauty's tear will sure beguile ; 
Hearts that armies ne'er defeated. 

Love can conquer with a smile. 
Who would strive to live in story. 

Did not woman's hand prepare 
Amaranthine wreaths of glory 

Which the valiant proudly wear ! 

[_Exit the Count. Kabl follows^ menacing him. 



268 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act L 



SCENE III. 

An apartment in the Chateau of the Countess. Enter 
the Countess and Feederica. 

COUNTESS. 

Your morning ride, Frederica, was full of romance — 
the horse of your groom, you say, took fright — 

FREDERICA. 

Yes, dear mother, and darted off at a racing pace ; my 
own also became unmanageable, and I lost my presence 
of mind. I should have been thrown, if not killed, had 
not a gentleman rushed to my assistance. 

COUNTESS. 

Who was he ? 

FEEDERICA. 

I do not know. 

COUNTESS. 

"Was he alone ? 

FREDERICA. 

There was an elderly person with him, who seemed to 
be a foreigner. 

COUNTESS. 

But he was young, of course ? 

FREDERICA. 

Yes, mother, and handsome as an Adonis. 



Scene III.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 269 

COUNTESS. 

You have not fallen in love with this stranger, surely ? 
Yon are not old enough, and this is only your first sea- 
son, Frederica. 

FKEDEKICA. 

Love has all seasons for his own, dear mother. Listen ! 

SONG* FKEDERIOA. 

The spring-time of love is both happy and gay, 
For Joy sprinkles blossoms and balm in our way ; 
The sky, earth and ocean in beauty repose. 
And all the bright future is couleur de rose. 

The summer of love is the bloom of the heart, 
When hill, grove and valley their music impart ; 
And the pure glow of heaven is seen in fond eyes. 
As lakes show the rainbow that's hung in the skies ! 

The autumn of love is the season of cheer — 
Life's mild Indian summer, the smile of the year — 
Which comes when the golden-ripe harvest is stored. 
And yields its own blessings, repose and reward. 

The winter of love is the beam that we win. 

While the storm howls without, from the sunshine within. 

Love's reign is eternal — the heart is his throne. 

And he has all seasons of life for his own. 

* This song was not written for the opera; but was introduced by the 
composer 



23* 



270 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Actt I. 

COUNTESS. 

Silly, thoughtless girl 1 — "What etrangers are these 
coming up the avenue ? 

FREDEEioA {loohing out.) 
As I live, the elderly person I told you of, and the 
young gentleman who risked his life to save mine ! 
{Enter Wedgewood and Albeet.) 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Have I the honour of addressing the Countess Laniska ? 
{Aside.) Flounces, frills, filagrees and furbelows, but she 's 
superlatively odd ! 

COUNTESS. 

I am the countess, sir. 

WEDGEWOOD {presenting letters.) 
Will your ladyship be pleased to receive these letters 
of introduction — if quite convenient? 

COUNTESS {receiving letters, mid looking at them.) 
Mr. "Wedgewood, from Esturia and London; and — 

WEDGEWOOD {introducing albebt.) 
Mr. Albert "Worrendorf. 

COUNTESS {introducijig feedebioa.) 
My daughter Frederica. 

albeet {aside.) 
The angel we met by accident this morning ! 

WEDGEWOOD {oside.) 
Seraphically odd ! 



Scene IIL] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 271 



FBEDEEICA {tO ALBEET.) 

We have Been each other before, Mr. Worrendorf. 

ALBEET. 

To my great happiness, madam. 

(Albeet and Feedeeica converse apa/rt.) 

COUNTESS {to WEDQEWOOD.) 

It was very kind in my correspondent, Mr. Wedge- 
wood, to introduce a gentleman of your celebrity to my 
chateau. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

You do me honour, madam. We Englishmen are plain- 
spoken people. We are not unlike our earthenware — 
delf and common clay mixed together. K our outsides 
are sometimes rough, all within is smooth and polished 
as the best of work. It is the purest spirit, which, like 
the finest china, lets the light shine through it. {Aside.) 
Not a bad compliment to myself, and metaphorically odd ! 

COTJNTESS. 

Your reply reminds me of the object of your visit. 
The Prussians are very proud of the manufactory which 
has claimed the attention of the king. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Oh, how I long to see the great Frederick I 

COUNTESS. 

You will like him, I am confident. 



272 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act I. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

I don't know tliat. I don't at all fancy his edict. — 
What ! marry a parcel of handsome, innocent, indnstri- 
ous girls to his great whiskered horse-guards, whether 
they will or no ? It 's a piece of moral turpitude — an 
insult to common sense — and infamously odd — 

FBEDEKicA {advancing.) 
Have a care, Mr. Wedge wood — have a care how you 
talk about the king. He possesses a sort of magical ubi- 
quity — and is here, there and everywhere at the same 
moment. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

How does he manage that ? 

feederioa. 

He wanders about in secrecy and disguise — enters all 
kinds of mansions — and often overhears conversations 
that were never intended for the court. By this means, 
it is said, he gathers information from every nook and 
corner of his kingdom. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Strange kind of hocus-pocus work for a monarch ! — 
Peripatetically odd! 

albekt. 

I have been told that he knows more of the character 
and condition of his subjects and soldiers than they do 
themselves. 



Scene III.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 273 

COUNTESS. 

And he never knows of a wrong done among his peo- 
ple that he does not instantly redress — though it often 
puzzles them to learn how he arrives at his knowledge 
of the facts. Many think him a wizard. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

And not without reason, madam. Never before have 
I heard of such a compound of sagacity, courage and 
eccentricity. Oh, I am all in a glow to see and converse 
with the jolly old boy ! 

{Enter Count Laotska..) 
COUNTESS {introducing him.) 
My son, the Count Laniska, will present you to his 
majesty. 

WEDGEWOOD (pOWiug to COUNT.) 

If it is convenient. {Aside.) Most martially and uni- 
formly odd! {To Laniska.) But, first, I should like to 
have a glimpse at the factory. 

COUNT. 

I shall be happy to show it to you. There is one ex- 
traordinary subject connected with it, that will surprise 
you both — a young girl of singular talent and beauty — 

FKEDEKICA. 

Ah, brother ! upon your favourite theme again. That 
young girl occupies more of your thoughts than all the 
porcelain in these dominions. 



274 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act L 

AiiBEKT {aside) 
Poor Sophia ! 

FKEDEKioA {ohscrving that the Count looks thoughtful.) 

"Why, what's the matter with you, brother? 

WEDGEWOOD. 

He is no doubt studying the mixture of different kinds 
of clay, and contriving a furnace that will not destroy it 
by too much heat. Ingeniously odd ! 

COUNT. 

You are mistaken, sir. I was thinking at what time I 
should have the pleasure of waiting upon you. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

I will be at your service as soon as I have had time to 
adjust my outward and refresh my inward man. — Neces- 
sarily odd ! {Seeing the Countess ahout to retire) Mad- 
am, allow me {tahes her hand) — If it is convenient. 

{Exit Wedgewood and Countess. 

EEEDEBIGA {}0 COUNT.) 

Now, brother, that the countess has retired, pray fa- 
vour us with your confidence. You need not mind Mr. 
"Worrendorf — I have told him all about Sophia Mans- 
field. — I love that poor girl myself, not less for her mis- 
fortunes than her genius. 

ALBERT. 

I love her too — 



SccNK III.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 275 

FEEDERICA {asidc.) 

Oh, dear ! what 's the matter with me ? My head turns 
round — I am ready to drop! 

COUNT {with emotion) 
You love her ! Wherefore ? 

ALBERT. 

She is my countrywoman, and for that I love her. 
FREDERicA {recovering.) 

Well, gentlemen, I must say this is very ungallant in 
you both to be praising one lady so highly when there is 
another in the room. {Aside) Oh, dear me, how near I 
came betraying myself! 

ALBERT. 

Your pardon, my dear madam. When I look at you, 

I almost forget there is another woman in the world. 

{Kisses Frederioa's hand, who turns away in evident 

confusion.) — But for the present I must leave you, to join 

Mr. Wedgewood. [Exit. 

COUNT {noticing them) 

{Aside) So, so, Frederica — fairly caught, I perceive ! 

{To Frederica.) Ah, sister, sister ! as in all things else, 

there is a destiny in love. 

duet LANISKA AND FREDERICA. 

From my fate there's no retreating — 

Love commands, and I obey ; 
How with joy my heart is beating 

At the fortunes of to-day 1 



276 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Aai I. 

Life is filled with strange romances — 

Love is blind, tlie poets say ; 
When he comes unsought, the chance is 

Of his own accord he '11 stay. 

Love can ne'er be forced to tarry ; 

Chain him — he'll the bonds remove : 
Paired, not matched, too many marry — 

All should wed alone for love. 
Let him on the bridal-even 

Trim his lamp with constant ray ; 
And the flame will light to heaven. 

When the world shall fade away ! 

[Mceunt. 



SCENE IV. 

The whole depth of the stage is made use of in this scene, 
which represents an open country. A Camp and Sol- 
diers at a distance. Music. Enter Hans, Gertrude 
and Peasantry : Lads and Lasses dancing. 

CHORUS OF PEASANTS. 

Lads and lasses, trip away 
To the cheerful roundelay ! 
At the sound of tambourine, 
Care is banished from the scene. 



Scene IV.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 277 

And a bappy train we bound, 
To the pipe and tabour's sound. 

Merrily, merrily, trip away, 

'Tis a nation's holiday! 

Merrily, merrily, merrilie. 

Bound with spirits light and free ! 

Let's be jocund while we may; 
And dance — dance — dance — 

And dance the happy hours away I 

When the gleaming line shall come, 
To the sound of trump and drum ; 
Headed by advancing steeds, 
Whom the king in person leads — 
Let us hail him in his state. 
For the king 's both good and great I. 

Merrily, merrily, trip away, 

'Tis a nation's holiday ! 

Merrily, merrily, merrilie. 

Bound with spirits light and free ! 

Let's be jocund now we may. 
And dance — dance — dance — 

And dance the happy hours away ! 

{Immediately after chorus, a grand march is commenced 
in the distance, which lecomes more and more distinct 
as the troo;ps advance. The Peasants form in groves. 
Hans speaks during the first part of the march^ 



24 



278 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act I. 

HANS. 

Here we are, Gertrude, many miles from our own vil- 
lage — and all for vat? To please you — {aside) and to 
shell a few colours to der artishes, vich I pring along mit 
me for der purpose : but I need not tell her dat. — Here, 
stand aside, and don't be looking after de sholders ! 
(Gektkude and Hans stand aside. QroMd march. En- 
ter a corps of Grenadiers and other troops^ who form, 
on the right of the stage. Roll of drum^s. The troops 
present arms. Enter Feedekick, in a furious passion^ 
followed hy general and staff Officers, and Count La- 
NisKA. The King acknowledges the salute, lifts his 
hat J and puts it on again furiously. Harold and 
Corporal are in the ranTcs of the Grenadiers. Through- 
out the scene the King speaks hurriedly^ 

KING. 

General ! 

FIRST GENERAL. 

Your Majesty. 

KING. 

How comes it there is such a lack of discipline in your 
division? Disband that regiment at once, and draft a 
few of the men from the right wing into other regiments 
ordered for immediate service ! The sooner they are shot 
the better ! 

FIRST GENERAL. 

Yes, sire. \Exit. 



Sci2fE IV.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 279 

KING. 

Generals — most of you have served the greater part 
of your lives with me. We have grown gray-headed in 
the service of our country, and we therefore know best 
ourselves the dangers, difficulties and glory in which we 
have shared. While we maintain the discipline of the 
army, we may defy any power that Europe can march 
against us — relax that, and we become an easy prey to 
the spoiler. 

SECOND GENERAL. 

Your majesty shall have no cause of complaint in fu- 
ture. 

KING. 

Make sure of that ! — Soldiers, I rely in my operations 
entirely upon your well-known zeal in my service, and I 
shall acknowledge it with gratitude as long as I live ; 
but at the same time I require of you that you look upon 
it as your most sacred duty to show kindness and mercy 
to all prisoners that the fortunes of war may throw in 
your power. 

SECOND GENERAL. 

That duty, sire, you have taught us all our lives. 

KING {tahing snuffs 
Good! — Have any of my grenadiers anything to say 
to me before the parade is dismissed ? 

HAROLD {recovering a/rms.') 
Your Majesty ! 



280 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [-^ot I. 

KING. 

Speak out, Harold, 

HAEOLD. 

The grenadiers have noticed with deep regret that you 
fatigue yourself of late too much with the cares of the 
army. We protest against it — 

KING. 

Zounds and fury! — Here's rebellion! You protest 

against it ? 

HAKOLD (bluntly.) 

We do. You are getting to be an old man — a very 

old man — and are too much afoot. 

KING. 

I can do as I like about it, I suppose ? 

HAItOLD. 

Certainly not; and you will, therefore, in future, be 
good enough to use your carriage more and your legs 
less. 

KING. 

What do the grenadiers fear f 

HAROLD. 

We fear nothing but the loss of your health, the loss 
of your life, or the loss of your favour, sire. 

KING. 

Don't you fear the loss of my temper at your bluntness 
— eh, old comrade? 

HAKOLD. 

No, sire ; we know you like it. 



Scene IV.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 281 



KING. 

I do indeed. You are in the right, mj brave com- 
patriots — for mj advanced age and increasing infirmi- 
ties admonish me that I shall be under the necessity of 
following your advice. But on the day of battle, you 
shall see me on horseback — on horsehacJc — and in the 
thickest of the fight ! {Crosses the stage, as a Burgomas- 
ter enters, kneels and ]?resents a jpetition^ "What have 
we here ? 

BUEGOIVIASTEK. 

Sire — the common council has imprisoned a citizen, 
upon an accusation that he has sinned against heaven, 
the king, and the right worshipful the common council. 
We humbly beg to know what Your Majesty's pleasure 
is with regard to the punishment of so unparalleled and 
atrocious an offender ? 

KING. 

If the prisoner has sinned against heaven, and is not a 
fool or a madman, he will make his peace with it without 
delay. That is a Power {faking off his hat — all the char- 
acters maTce their oheisance) that kings themselves must 
bow to in reverential awe. {Resumes his hat) 

BTTBGOMASTEE, 

But he has also sinned against your high and mighty 
majesty — 

KING. 

Tush, tush, man ! 



24* 



282 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act I. 

BUKGOMASTER {profoundly.) 
On my official veracity, sire ! 

KING. 

Well, well, for that I pardon him — 

BURGOMASTER. 

And he has likewise sinned against the right worship- 
ful the common council. 

KING. 

The reprobate ! — 

BURGOMASTER. 

It is most veritable, Your Majesty — 

KING. 

Well, for that terrible and enormous offence, it becomes 
my solemn duty to make an example of so abominable 
a culprit, and to punish him in a most exemplary man- 
ner. Therefore — 

BURGKJMASTER. 

Yes, Your Majesty — 

KING. 

Send him to the castle of Spandau, to be imprisoned — 

BURGOMASTER. 

Your Majesty — 

KING. 

For at least — 

BURGOMASTER. 

Sire — 



Scene IV.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 283 



KING. 

Half an liour (Peasantry laugh;) — and afterward he is 
at liberty to go to the devil his own way ; and the right 
worshipful the common council may go with him, if they 
like ! 

{Exit Burgomaster. As he goes out, shrugging his shoul- 
ders, all the Peasantry laugh, until checked hy a look 
from the King, who crosses the stage to the Grenadiers, 
and addresses the Corporal who has his watch-riband 
suspended.) 

KING. 

Corporal ! {He advances and recovers a/rms) 

COKPOEAL. 

Your Majesty! 

KING. 

I have often noticed you in the field. You are a brave 
soldier — and a prudent one too, to have saved enough 
from your pay to buy yourself a watch. 

HAiiOLD {aside to coepokal.) 
You remember what I told you about a hawk's eye. 

COEPOEAL. 

Brave I flatter myself I am ; but as to my watch, it is 
of little signification. 

KING {seizing and pidling out a hullet fastened to the 
Corporal's watch-rihand) 

Why, this is not a watch ! — It's a bullet ! 



CORPOKAL. 

It's the only watcli I have, Your Majesty ; but I have 
not worn it entirely out of vanity — 

KING. 

What have you worn it for, then ? It does not show 
you the time of day ! 

COKPOKAL. 

Ko ; but it clearly shows me the death I am to die in 
Your Majesty's service. 

KCSTG. 

Well said, my brave fellow ! And that you may like- 
wise see the hour among the twelve in which you are to 
die, I will give you my watch. Take it, and wear it for 
my sake, corporal. {The King gives the Corporal his 

watch.) 

COKPOKAL {with emotion.) 

It will also teach me that at any moment Your Majesty 
may command my life. 

HAKOLD {enthusiastically.) 

And the lives of us all ! Long live the king ! 
{Flourish of drums. The King acknowledges the salute.) 
KixG {to Grenadiers.) 

You, my brave fellows, are my own guards. I can rely 
upon yoit. There is no want of discipline here — eh. Gen- 
eral? Notwithstanding all my annoyances, I am the 
happiest king in Christendom ! 



Scene IV.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 285 

CHORUS. 

(Grenadiers and all the Characters.) 

All hail the king ! — Long live the king ! 

Our hope in peace and war ! 
With his renown let Prussia ring ! — 

Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! 
He is the pillar of the state ! 

Our sword and buckler he ! 
Heaven give to Frederick the Great 

Eternal victory ! 

{The Grenadiers cheer. The Officers close about the King. 
Flourish and tableau. The act-drop descends on the 
picture) 



EiVD OF THE FIRST ACT. 



286 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act II. 



ACT II. 

SCENE I. 

Discovered. The stage rejpresents a large apartment with- 
out the usual side-entrances. On the left hand is a 
TOW of long^ old-fashioned windows^ with painting- 
screens so arranged as to let the light fall ohliquely 
on the tables beneath / at which the Factory-Girls are 
seated^ employed in painting various a/rticles of porce- 
lain. Sophia Mansfield is seated at the table nearest 
the audience. On the right are separate tables, at 
which Girls are employed mixing and grinding col- 
ours. In the centre of the stage is a small platform, 
on which a number of painted vases, ready for the 
oven, are placed. Kakl is engaged in examining them. 
At the rear of the stage is the entnrance to the room — 
a large, open door — on each side of which are rows 
of shelves, filled with vases, bowls, plates, jars, mantel- 
ornaments and the like, put there to dry. The whole 
representing the painting-room of the Royal Porce- 
lain-Factory. Through the doors the furnaces are 
seen, on which the porcelain is placed to set the col- 




S(n)[PM 0/\ ROAMS [FO E IL 



ScEXE I.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 287 

ours, and which several "Workmen are attending. The 
curtain rises slowly to the music. 

CHOEUS. 

{German air.) 

Home, home, home — 

Dear, lost home ! 
Though here we pine in slavery, 
Our hearts are all in Saxony, 

Our girlhood's happy home ! 
Land of the free and bold, 
To hopeless bondage sold ! 
While abject toil and fear 
Enchain thy daughters here, 

"We yearn for thee, 

O Saxony ! — 
For freedom, love and home ! 

{The Girls attemjjt to waltz to the music / hut, overcome 
hy their feelings, they resume their tasks ^ 

SOLO SOPHIA. 

Home, home, home — 

Dear, lost home ! 
Though cares oppress us fearfully, 
We exiles carol cheerfully 

Of girlhood's haj)py home ! 



288 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act IL 

Beneatli our native sky 
The hours went swiftly by ; 
"While on a foreign soil, 
Our youth consumes in toil ! 

We yearn for thee, 

O Saxony ! — 
For freedom, love and home ! 
{The Girls attempt to waltz^ as hefore^ c&c.) 

CHOKtrS. 

Home, home, home, &c. 
{The "Workmen and the Girls resume their tasJcs.) 

{Miter Count Laniska, Albert, a7id Wedgewood.) 
WEDGEWOOD {looMnff around, and speaMng enthusiasti- 
cally as he enters) 
Admirable, upon my word ! Every department better 
than the last, and this the best of all ! Never saw any- 
thing like it. The colours brilliant — the designs exquis- 
itely classical — "a place for everything, and everything 
in its place I" 

COUNT. 

Whatever His Majesty constructs, whether a fortress 
or a factory, is perfect in all its details. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Yet look around you, and read your monarch's history 
in the eyes of these prisoners of war. Observe that pic- 
ture of melancholy {pointing to Sophia, who, during the 



Scene I.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 2S9 

scene ^ has heen leaning dejectedly on Tier hand — Kakl 
standing hy her side.) How reluctantly she pursues her 
task ! Our English manufacturers work in quite another 
manner, for they are free ! 

KABL. 

And are free men or free women never indisposed ? — 
or do you Englishmen blame your king whenever any 
of his subjects turn pale 1 The woman at whom you are 
looking is evidently ill. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Then fie upon your inhumanity for making a poor, 
sick girl work when she seems scarcely able to hold up 
her head ! {Aside) I don't half like that fellow ! Vil- 
lanously odd. 

ALBERT {to SOPHIA.) 

My poor girl, what is the matter with you ? The over- 
seer says that since you came here, you have done noth- 
ing worthy of your pencil. Yet this charming piece 
{pointing to an ornament of her painting) — which was 
brought from Saxony, is of your design — is it not? 

SOPHIA. 

Yes, sir, it was my misfortune to paint it. If the king 
had never seen or liked it, I should now be — 

ALBEKT. 

In Saxony ; but forget that country, and you may b© 
happy in this. 



290 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act IL 

soruiA. 
I cannot forget it! — I cannot forget everybody that I 
ever loved. Ask not a Saxon woman to forget her coun- 
try! 

ALBERT. 

Whom do you iove in Saxony now? 

SOPHIA. 

"Whom do I not love in Saxony? I have a brother 
there, whom I have not seen since childhood. He was 
at college when I was carried off from the cottage in 
which we both were born. He is ignorant of my fate. 
{She regards Albert with great attention^ and examines 
his features minutely) 

ALBERT. 

Why do you gaze upon me so intently ? 

S0PHL&.. 

I know not why, sir ; but you seemed even now a dear 
heart-cherished one, whom I have wished for long and 
anxiously. 

ALBERT. 

Think me that one and trust me. 

S0PHL&.. 

I will — for there's a cherub nestling in my heart, 
which whispers, " You are here to save me !" (Albert 
leads her to her tasJc^ which she resumes in great dejec- 
tion of spirits) 



Scene I.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 291 



WEDGEWOOD {tO KAHL), 

Is that poor girl often tlins ? 

KAEL. 

She sits as jou see her, like one stupified, half the day. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

The cause of this — if it is convenient? 

KARL. 

Slie has fallen to the lot of a soldier {glancing at So- 
phia) — who swears, if she delays another day to marry 
him^ that he will complain to the king. 

COUNT {turning furiously ujpon kakl.) 

Wretch ! {seizes him.) 

KAEL {^hr owing him off.) 
This insult will cost you dear! Tour scorn for the 
king's commands — 

COUNT {scornfully^ 
I had forgotten. {Releases him) You are a mere in- 
strument in the hands of a tyrant ! 

KAEL {aside) 
That word again ! — 

soPHLi {running hetioeen them-., and throwing herself at 
the feet of lais^iska.) 
Save me ! save me ! You can save me ! You are a 
powerful lord, and can speak to the king ! Save me from 
this detested marriaere ! 



KA.KL {aside to sophia.) 
Are you mad ? 
corNT {raising sophia, loho clings to him, and shrinks 
from KARL.) 
I will do so, or perish in the attempt! 

KARL {aside.) 
Ah ! say you so ? Then the king shall know his ene- 
my and mine / [Exit. 

"W'^EDGEWOOD {jiotichig KARL gO off.) 

Whew! There's mischief brewing! If that hlack- 
muzzled rascal is not hatching trouble for us all, I'll 
never trust my seven senses again ! I wonder they per- 
mit such a bear to go at large in a garden like this — 
he'll root up flowers as well as weeds. — Dangerously 
odd! 
{Trumpet sounds without, and a huzz and hum as if of 

{a distant crowd ; the noise comes near the Factory^ 

WEDGEWOOD. 

What 's afoot now, I wonder ? 

ALBERT. 

Some new freak, no doubt, of this eccentric monarch. 

{Noises.) 

WEDGicwooD {looMng out.) 

The town is all astir {noise louder) — humming and 
buzzing like a hive of bees ! {N'oise, and distant shouts.) 



And yonder comes a fussy little burgomaster, with a 

proclamation, and a crowd of noisy citizens at liis heels 

— odd ! \_JVoise and shouts increase. 

(Sophia a7id the other Girls and the Workmen leave their 

occupations^ as if anxious to learn the cause of the 

ujproar. When the Jjiizzing., huzzaing and noise reach 

the Factory., loud sound of the trumpet) 

BUEGOMASTEK {without) 

Make way there, good people — make way there for 
the royal herald ! {The Burgomaster hustles in with the 
Herald — the crowd following and surrounding hhn — 
noises.) Stand back {using his wand) — stand back, you 
idle, ragged tatterdemalions, and pay all due reverence 
to the constituted authorities! {laughter) — for know all 
men by these presents {very pomjpously,) that I represent 
the king ! {laughter.) 

WEDGEWOOD. 

What a figure for the part ! {laughter.) 
BURGOMASTER {smartly striking with his wand one who 
laughs louder than the rest) 

Take that, and let it teach you better manners in fu- 
ture, you scarecrow! — Now draw near, good people, 
and be dumb ! Lend me all your ears ! — 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Tou have ears enough already for any two-legged ani- 
mal — 



25* 



294 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act II. 

BURGOMASTER. 

While I, by virtue of my office as a magistrate, pub- 
lisli this important document! (Sophia comes foi'ward) 

CITIZEN {eagerly.) 
ISJ'ow for it ! 

BURGOMASTER {JutUn'j him smaHhj over the head.) 

You will, will you? — Ilish! This paper is big with 

information to the whole realm ; but more especially to 

the daughters of Saxony. (SoniiA and the Girls of the 

Factory, hy looTcs and actions, evince great interest in the 

reading of the j^aj^cr.) 

BURGOMASTER. 

Hish! {To Herald.) !Now proceed in regular order, 
and according to ancient form and usage, to r6ad the 
royal proclamation ! — Hish ! {Hands jpa^er to Herald.) 
HERALD {reads.) 
" By the grace of God, we, Frederick the Second, King 
of Prussia, hereby radke 'known that we will give free- 
dom — " 

SOPHIA {eagerly aside.) 

Freedom? {Listens with anxiety.) 

HERALD. 

^'^ And a reward of five hundred crowns to the Artist 
who shall produce the w.ost heautifully-designed and 
highly-finished enamelled porcelain vase of Berlin chi- 
na^ and permit her to marry whomsoever she shall think 
proper.^'' 



Scene I.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 



295 



SOPHIA {aside and joyfully) 
Hear I aright? {The Girls of the Factory show great 
joy at this.) 

HERALD. 

" The Artist's oiame shall he iyiscrihed ^(,j)on the mse, 
which shall le called ' The Prussian Vase.' " 

SOPHIA {aside.) 
Oh, happv, happy news ! 

HEEALD. 

^'Signed at the Satis Souci — 

"By the King." 

OMNES. 

^^— 2— z— a— a— h— a— a— a— a ! {Amid the shouts 
and general joy of the Girls, the Burgomaster hustles out, 
using his wand freguently, and speaUng all the while; 
the Herald following, and the Citizens huzzing and huz- 
zaing as hefore.) Silence, yon nondescript villains! — 
Silence, I say ! You stun me with your uproar ! {Loud 
shout.— Passionately.) Oh, shut your ugly mugs ! {Strikes 
them.) 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Mugs! Hike that. He's in the crockery-trade, like 
myself. 

SOPHIA {ivith joy.) 

This proclamation has animated me with new life and 
energy. I feel like one inspired ! 



296 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act IL 

corNT. 
"What mean you ? 

SOPHIA. 

To become a competitor for the prize. 

ALBEKT. 

You will have many opponents. 

SOPHIA. 

I heed them not. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

All will be zeal throughout the manufactory. 

SOPHIA. 

So much the greater need for my perseverance. 

ALBERT. 

Some will be excited with the hope of gaining their 
liberty. 

SOPHIA. 

Oh, blessed hope ! 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Some stimulated by the crowns. — N^ot at all odd. — 
It would be odd if they were not ! 

SOPHIA. 

But none have so strong a motive for exertion as I 

have. 

COUNT [loith enthusiasm^ 

Nobly resolved ! I will assist you with every faculty 
I possess. 



Scene I.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 297 

ALBERT {with the same feeling) 
And I! 

WEDGEWOOD {with the same) 
And all! — If it is convenient. 

SOPHIA [joyfully) 
Then doubt not my success. [Exit Laniska, Albert 
and Wedgewood.) Oh, how my heart bounds with the 
thoughts of once more seeing Saxony ! Its mountains, 
torrents, vineyards, are all before me now ! And then 
our native songs ! — They steal into my heart and melt it. 

SONG AND CHOKUS. 

{German air) 

SOPHIA AND FACTORT-GIELS. 

Sky, stream, moorland and mountain, 

Tree, cot, spire and dome, 
Breeze, bird, vineyard and fountain, 
Kindred, friends, country and home ! — 

Home, home, home, home ! — 
These are the blessings of home ! 
{The Factory-Girls noio waltz cheerfully to the music) 

Hope how fondly I cherish, 

Dear land, to see thee once more ! 

O Fate ! let me not perish 

Far from my own native shore ! 



298 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act II. 

Home, home, home, home ! — 
Saxony, Liberty's home ! 

{The Girls waltz as hefore^ c&g.) 

Tliose who freedom inherit, 

Bow not to Tyranny's tlirone ; 
Then, friends, in a kind spirit, 

Judge of my love hy your own. 
Home, home, home, home! — 

The land of the heart is our home ! 

{They all waifs with great spirit until the scene closes.) 



SCENE II. 

A Street in Berlin. Eater Feederiok in a cloaTc — Karl 
following. 

KING. 

Those who have the command of motives, and know 
their power, have also the command of all that the 
arts, or what is called a genius for the arts, can produce. 
The human mind and human ingenuity are much the 
same in Italy, England and Prussia. Then why should 
not we have a Prussian as well as a "Wedge wood or a 
Barbarini vase? We shall see. I do not understand 
mon metier de roi, if I cannot call forth talents where I 



Scene II.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 299 



know them to exist. {To Karl.) And so the count de- 
nounced me for a tyrant, did he, Karl? 

KARL. 

He did, Tour Majesty. 

EING. 

He's a mere stripling; and I jjermit boys and fools to 
speak of me as they list. But I am no tyrant, Karl! 
He might have spared me that. {Musingly.) Tyrant ! — 

EARL {aside.) 
It rankles deeply. 

EiNG {recovering from his meditation) 
Youth and inexperience — to say nothing of love — 
pshaw! — which is the root of all fully— shall be his 
apology this time : but let him beware how he offends 
again — 

EARL {aside.) 
It moves him as I intended. 

EING. 

No, I am no tyrant. I should not be branded with 
such a title ! 

EARL {startled.) 
Branded, Your Majesty ? 

KmG. 
What has happened, Karl ? You are as pale as ashes ! 
What mystery is here ? I am to be trusted. 



300 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act II. 

KARL. 

Your Majesty was ever kind ; and if I might — 

KING. 

Might! Yon may. Speak freely to your sovereign — 
your friend — and tell me what it is that weighs upon 
your mind. 

SONG KARL. 

Dared these lips my sad story impart, 
What relief it would give to my heart ! 
Though the scenes of past years, as they rise, 
Bring the dews of remorse to my eyes. 
Yet, oh hear me, and ever conceal 
What in agony now I reveal ! — 

KESTG. 

Speak freely, Karl — 

KARL. 

And behold, Mdiile I throw off the mask! 

Ah, no, no, no, no, no — 
I shrink in despair from the task ! 

In the page of my life there appears 
A sad passage that 's written in tears ! 
Could but that be erased, I would give 
All the remnant of days I may live : 
' Yet the cause of the cloud on my brow 
I have never disclosed until now — 



Scene II.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 301 

KING. 

Say on, Karl — 

KAKL. 

Here beliold ! — It is branded in flame! 

Ah, no, no, no, no, no — 
I shrink in despair from my shame ! 

[Kakl rushes out. 

KING. 

There is a mystery about that fellow that I cannot un- 
derstand. — "Whom have we here ? Oh, the English trav- 
eller who is in such a good humour with my manufac- 
tory, and who has such strange notions respecting me. 
Good — good ! [Draws his cloak about him and retires. 

{Enter "Wedgewood.) 

WEDGEWOOD. 

I begin to perceive that I shall get into some confound- 
ed scrape if I stay here much longer, and so will my 
young friend Mr, TVorrendorf, who has made me his con- 
fidant : but mum 's the word ! {Seeing the King, who is 
in the act of taking snuff.) Ah, use snuff, my old boy? — 
Odd ! — Thank you for a pinch. {Takes a pinch sans cere- 
monie, and without the King's consent. Frederick shuts 
the box a7igrily. "Wedgewood starts hack in astonishment. 
— -Aside.) "Wonder who the old-fashioned brown jug can 
be ! I '11 take him by the handle and pour him out, and 
see what 's in him. 



26 



302 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act IT. 

KING. 

Like the snuff? 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Yes {snuffs) — it's decent blackguard isjmffs) — quite 
decent. 

KING. 

Taste it again. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Don't care if I do. {Helps Jiimself.) 

KING. 

Perhaps you will also do me the favour to accept the 

box? 

WEDGEWOOD {taking the hox.) 

If it is convenient. What am I to infer from this ? 

KING. 

That you and I cannot take snuff out of the same box. 
My box is not large enough for two. 

WEDGEWOOD {astonished.) 
You don't say so! "!N"ot large enough for two"? — 
{Looks at the hox.) Damn me if I don't think it large 
enough for a dozen, unless they took snuff with a shovel ! 
{Aside.) "Who in the name of all that's magnanimous can 
this old three-cornered cocked-hatted cockolorum be? 

KING. 

You were overheard to say but now that you would 
like to see the king? 



Scene II. OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 303 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Overheard ? {Aside) Ah, that 's the way they do every- 
thing here. A man can't sneeze without some one of 
the four winds of heaven reporting it to His Majesty ! 
There is no such thing as a secret in the whole kingdom ! 
How do the women get along, I wonder ? {To Feedek- 
icK.) " Like to see the king ?" Certainly I should. 

KING. 

That box will procure you an audience. Present it at 
the palace. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Look you here, my jolly old cock, none of your jokes 
— none of your tricks upon travellers, if you please. 
What do you mean ? 

KING. 

That I am appreciated at court. 

WEDGEWOOD {aside.) 

Oh, there's no standing this ! {To Fkedertck.) Do you 
intend to say that you are personally acquainted with 
Frederick the Great ? 

KING. 

I know him, I believe, better than any subject in his 
realm. He is my most intimate friend. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

"Well, then, if that be the case, all that I liave to say 
is, that he is not over and above nice in the choice of his 
companions. — What an odd old file ! 



304: THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act II. 

KING {angrily^ 
Look you liere, Mr. "Wedgewood — 

WEDGE WOOD {stammering.) ■ 
"We-d-g-e-w-o-o-d ! — 

KING. 

Yes — I know jou well enough. You are an Englisli- 
man by birtli — a crockery-merchant by trade — a gentle- 
man from inclination — and an odd sort of character from 
habit. "Without knowing anything more about it than 
the man in the moon, you have condemned the policy 
of the king, who is aware of all you have said and done 
since your arrival in Prussia. 

WEDGEWOOD {alarmed.) 
Oh, I'll get out of this infernal country as fast as my 
legs can carry me ! The king is all ears, like a field of 
corn ; and all eyes, like a potato-patch ! 

KING. 

What alarms you ? 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Everything. It's all over with me! I'm an earthen 
teapot with the spout knocked ofi"! — Suspiciously odd! 

KING. 

You, sir, like too many others, are entirely mistaken 
in the character of Frederick. You will understand him 
better when we meet again {going.) 



Scene IL] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 305 



"WEDGEWOOD. 

But, before you go, pray receive your box again ! — {tJie 
King loolcs at him sternly — "Wedgewood greatly alarmed) 
— If — it — is — convenient ! 

KING. 

Not now. When next we confer, remember me. — 
Farewell ! {Exit. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Remember you ? I think I shall. Once seen, never 
forgotten. "What a deep old screw ! 

{Enter Haeold.) 

HAEOLD. 

The king commands your presence at the chateau of 
the countess. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

The devil he does! {Looks at the lox.) "What's here? 
As I live, the royal arms ! {Conceals the hox from Har- 
old.) Oh, the thing's plain enough. That fellow has 
stolen this box ; and, for fear of being found out, he has 
put it off on me! It's all up! — I've been bamboozled 
by that nefarious old monster of iniquity ! But I'll after 
him straight, and have him jugged. If I don't, they '11 
make no bones oi jugging me ! — If it is convenient. 

[Exit in a flurry. 
haeold. 

How he trembles ! He 's frightened out of his senses ! 



26* 



— Fear? What is it? A word not to be found in the 
articles of war — a soldier's only vocabulary. 

SONG HAROLD. i 

Fiery Mars, thy votary hear ! 

Weave for me a wreath of glory ! 
When I rest upon my bier, 

Let my memory live in story ! 
Aid my sword in time of war ! — 

In my country's cause I wield it — 

Only with the breath I draw, 

Will I to the foeman yield it ! 

{Exit. 



SCENE III. 

Sophia Mansfield's apartments in the Porcelain-Factory. 
Enter Sophia. 

SOPHIA. 

'Tis done. My vase is finished, and in the possession 
of the overseer. How is it with me ? Although my for- 
tunes are suspended by a single thread, an unaccustomed 
buoyancy pervades my bosom. Are these emotions pre- 
cursors of victory, or has the love of Laniska given me 
a new existence, and tinged the world once more with 
hues of paradise ? How new and fresh and strange are 



Scene III.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 30T 

all things here about my heart! This is his gift — a 
simple flower ! He said it is an emblem of love. It is 
not so. Love does not perish thus! — Love cannot be a 
flower. 

SONG SOPHIA. 

Ah ! Love is not a garden-flower, 

That shoots from out the cultured earth ; 
That needs the sunbeam and the shower, 

Before it wakens into birth : 
It owns a richer soil and seed, 

And woman's heart supplies them both, 
Where it will spring, without a weed, 

Consummate in its growth. 

These leaves will perish when away 

From either genial sun or shower ; 
Not so will wither and decay 

Celestial Love's perennial flower. 
'Tis our companion countless miles, 

Through weal or wo in after-years ; 
And though it flourishes in smiles, 

It blooms as fresh in tears ! 

{Enter Fkederica.) 

FEEDEEICA. 

My dear Sophia, I am overjoyed to learn that you 
have completed your vase. 



308 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act II. 

SOPHIA. 

Thanks, dear madam. Is it true that the works of the 
different competitors are to be exhibited at the fete of 
the countess, and that the decision is to be there made? 

FKEDEKICA. 

It is — and the countess insists upon your being pres- 
ent. 

SOPHIA. 

I am an unknown girl, madam ; and if I decline the 
invitation, I beseech you take it not amiss. 

FKEDERICA. 

But I will take it amiss, and so will the count and 
countess, whose messenger I am, and who insisted upon 
my bringing you to the chateau at once. 

SOPHIA. 

Well, madam, since you will have it so — 

FEEDEBICA. 

Oh, you'll be delighted. Only think of the concentra- 
ted attractions of " the court, the cam/p, the grove .^" Oh, 
they're too much for any mortal woman to withstand! 

DUET SOPHIA AND FREDEEICA. 

The king, the princes of the court, 

With lords and ladies bright, 
Will in their dazzling state resort 

To this grand fete to-night : 



Scene IV.] R, W H 'S T II E T R A I T R? 309 

The merry-liearted and the proud 
Will mingle in the glittering crowd, 
"Who glide with Fashion's sparkling stream 
Where one I love will shine supreme ! — 
La ra la, la ra la, la la la, &c. 

The cavaliers of Italj, 

The gay gallants of France, 
With Spain and England's chivalry. 

Will join the merry dance. 
The court of Love — the camp of Mars, 
Fair Prussian dames, " earth-treading stars," 
To music's strain will float in light, 
Wliere one I love will beam to-night! — 
La" ra la, la ra la, la la la, &c. 

[Exit cheerfully. 



SCENE IV. 

Discovered. Grand Saloon in the Chateau of the Count- 
ess Lantska, arranged for a Fete. — The scene opens 
with dancing and waltzing hy the Characters, and dis- 
covers the King and retinue, Lords and Ladies of the 
Court, foreign Ambassadors and Attaches, the Count- 
ess Laniska, Albert, Wedgewood, Kael, Girls of the 



310 THE MAID OF SAXOXY: [Act 11. 

Factory^ c&c, c&c, d&c. The Characters are variously 
grouped during the dance / and while all are observ- 
ing the King, who^ with Ejlrl at his side, is attentively 
examining the Yases, which are placed on stands on 
one side of the stage, the Count Laxiska enters, con- 
ducting in Sophia and Fkedeeica. After the dance, 
the King speaks. 

KING. 

The hour has arrived which is to decide the fate of the 
competitors. {All the Characters express hy their looks 
and actions the utmost anxiety a* to the result, and draw 
near to the King.) 

KAEL {to KING.) 

Tlie inscription upon tliis vase is in the handwriting 
of the Count Laniska. 

KING. 

'Tis well. 

KAEL {aside.) 
And it is his death-warrant ! 

KING. 

Subjects and children : we have reason to be proud of 
an art that redounds to the honour and glory of Prussia. 
Where all have deserved well, all shall be well remem- 
bered. {The Girls of the Factory manifest great joy at 
these words, and turn to congratulate each other. Sophia 
and liAinsKA stand apart, and watch every action of the 



Scene IV.] R, W H 'S T H E T R A I T R ? 311 

King, while the other Characters appear greatly inter- 
ested for Sophia.) This vase, however, I select from the 
rest, as the most beautiful of them all. (Sophia clasps 
her hands in great agitation?) Let this be known to 
after-ages as " The Peussian Yase ;" and let the name 
here inscribed {looks at and points to the name on the 
vase) be chronicled throughout these realms. {Takes So- 
phia hy the hand) Sophia Mansfield is the artist, and 
she is free ! (Sophia, overcome hy her feelings, falls on 
the T)osom of Feedekica.) 

chorus. 

Victoria ! victoria ! 

The Saxon maid is free ! — 
Victoria ! victoria! &c. 

SOPHIA. 

My heart will break with gratitude ! 

COUNT. 

And mine with joy ! 

KARL {aside.) 
It will bo of brief duration. 

EiESTG {who has regarded sophia with great interest) 
Let the dance proceed. 

{A merry dance and waltz hy the Characters, at the ter- 
mination of which a tableau is formed. The utmost 
Tnerriment and hilarity mark the action of the scene. 



312 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act IL 

At the conclusion of the dance^ the King, who has heen 
occupied in carefully examining the Yase, wipes it 
with his handkerchief, which heeotnes stained with 
the paint. Kael draws his attention to the inscrip- 
tion}) 

KARL. 

Behold, my liege ! — 

KING. 

Ha ! "What words are these ? {Reads.) " To Frederick 
the Great Tyrant" — Treachery! — (Kajrl immediately 
seizes the Vase, and carries it off, without the inscrip- 
tion heing seen hy any hut the King.) Break off the 
sports ! 

COUNTESS {greatly astonished.) 

What means Tour Gracious Majesty? 

KING. 

( Who has taken out his tablets, and loritten on them in 
great haste — does not rega/rd her, and speaks furiously. 
— Let all the doors be closed! Such base ingratitude 
shall not go unpunished ! — Give over your mirth ! Ho ! 
My guards 1 {Drums immediately sound) My guards ! 

{Presto ! Enter Hakold, Corporal and Grenadiers in great 
haste. The King hands Harold his orders, and rushes 
out in a towering passion. Enter TVedgewood. All 
the Guests are thrown into great confusion. Me-enter 
Karl.) 



Scene IV.] R, W H 'S T H E T R A I T R? 313 

HAEOLD {promptly) 
Count Laniska, stand fortli ! 

COUNT. 

What is your business with, me, Harold ? 

HAKOLD. 

You are our prisoner. 

OMNES. 

Prisoner ? 

KARL {aside.) 
Now I triumph ! 

COUNT. 

Under whose orders do you act ? 

HAKOLD. 

Those of the king. 

OMNES. 

The king! 

HAEOLD. 

Sophia Mansfield ! 

ALBEET. 

What of her? 

HAEOLD. 

She must away with us to the castle of Spandau. 

SOPHLA.. 

O Heaven, support me ! 

COUNT {drmjoing his sword.) 
Touch her at your peril, Harold ! 



27 



314 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Aor IL 

ALBEKT. 

This is madness ! Give me your sword ! ( Wrests it 
from him cmd gives it to Haeold.) Of what are they 
accused ? 

HAROLD. 

Of ingratitude and treason ! 

OMNES. 

Treason ! 

Finale. 

COITNT. 

Treason ! 

OMKES. 

Treason ! 

COTJNT. 

It cannot be ! 
Of treason who accuses me ? 

HAROLD. 

The king himself I — These orders read! 

{Rands paper to Count.) 

OMNES. 

The king himself ! 

COUNT (J^oohing at the papers.) 
'Tis true indeed ! 

SOPHIA. 

Oh, what a fearful change is here ! 

KAKL {aside.) 
I triumph now ! — my vengeance fear ! 



Scene rV.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 315 

HAKOLD. 

Your prisoners, guards ! — No more delay! 

(Sophia and Lanisea are made prisoners.) 

OMNES. 

The king's commands let all obey ! 

COILNT AND SOPHIA. 

We must obey ! 

SOPHIA. 

Oh, how my trusting heart is grieved! — 

COUNT. 

Our royal master is deceived ! 
No traitor I! — My loyal heart 
Spurns with disdain so base a part. 

SOPHIA. 

How vainly Fortune smiled on me ! 

SOPHIA AND COUNT. 

Oh, give me death or liberty ! 

EAKL. 

Tear them apart ! 

HAROLD AND GKENADIERS. 

No more delay ! 

KARL. 

To prison, hence ! — 

OMNES. 

To prison ? 



316 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act 11. 

HAEOLD AND GKENADIEKS. 

Hence ! 

OMNES, 

Away! away! 

( As the Guards attemjpt to separate Count Lajstiska and 
Sophia, great confusion ensues^ and the aot-drop de- 
scends.) 



END OF THE SECOND ACT. 



Scene I.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOE? 317 



ACT III. 

SCENE I. 

The stage represents part of the Castle of Spandau, and 
is arranged as follows : On the left, is a large rock / 
ohove which, in the distance, is the Tower. A large 
grated door opens upon a platform, surrounded hy 
iron railings. — Count Laniska is discovered leaning 
upon them. On the right, is an arched cell, with part 
of the wall jutting from the side, hehind which is a 
secret door. Above this is a fine view of an open 
countrry, a/nd a clear, hlue, starlight shy. Sophia is 
seated in the cell, at a table. — The whole scene is so 
ma/naged that, while the Audience ha/oe a full view 
of everything, the Prisoners, although they hear, can- 
not see each other. — Time, nea/r midnight. — The cur- 
tain rises slowly to music. 

DUET — SOPHIA AND COUNT. 
SOPHIA. 

This gloomy cell is my abode at last ; 
The sole reward for all my perils past. 



27* 



318 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act III. 

'Tis strange that love within the breast should dwell, 
When hope, dejected, bids the heart farewell! 

COTJNT. 

What sounds are these ? No human form is near, 
And yet that well-known voice I faintly hear ! 
'Twas sure the fancied music of the mind. 
Whose breathings mingled with the midnight wind. 

BOTH. 

Yes ! — T' is lost ! — 'Tis gone ! — Hark ! it comes again, 

Like distant echoes of a melting strain : 

In melody { ^^ \ spirit floats around ! — 

That voice ! — These walls are vocal with the sound. 

I hear its music near me still ! — 'Tis there ! 

Sure 'tis some gentle spirit of the air! 

{During the duet, the moon has been gradually rising, 
and the light falls through the grated windows of the 
Prison) 

{Enter Jailor, from the Tower, to Count Laniska..) 

JAILOE. 

Count Laniska — a friend, with an order from the king, 

COUNT. 

I attend him. [^Exit Count Laotska. 

(Jailor closes the iron door over the grated window, locks 
it, and retires) 




SOPHIA. 

'Twas but a dream! — 'Tis past, and all is still again! 
{The hell in the Tower strikes tweUe, 

BRAVUEA — SOPHIA. 

Hark ! 'tis the deei^-toned midnight bell, 
That bids a sad and long farewell 

To the departed honr ; 
How like a dirge its music falls 
Within these cold and drearj walls, 

"Where stern misfortunes lower ! 

Ah ! vainly through these prison-bars 
Glide the pale beams of moon and stars. 

To cheer this lonely tower ; 
From evening's close to dawn of day, 
Hope's star sheds not a single ray 

To light the solemn hour ! 

Alas ! what pangs must guilt conceal, 
When innocence like mine can feel 

So crushed in such an hour ! 
I know not whether love be crime — 
But if it is, in every clime 
'Tis woman's fatal dower! 
I can find no clew to this most cruel treachery. Wliat 
fiend in human shape has plotted my destruction ? {Sound 
of chains— prison-door is unloclced) Ah ! Karl here ! 



320 THE MAID OF SAXON T: [Act IIL 

{Enter Kael, who secures the door through which he 
came in. Se takss a position on the ojpposite side of 
the stage, a/nd regards Sophia attentively^ 

KAEL. 

"Well, Sophia, we meet at last where we can confer 
without the possibility of interruption. I came to save 
you. 

SOPHIA. 

My life would not be worth preserving, owing any- 
thing to you. 

KARL. 

Subdue this unavailing anger, and listen to your friend. 

SOPHIA. 

Not to you. The enmity of such a man is a tribute 
paid to honesty. Friend ! {scornfully.) 

KARL. 

I came to give you liberty. 

SOPHIA. 



How? 

By flight. 

Where? 
To Saxony. 
With whom ? 



KARL. 



SOPHIA. 



KARL. 



SOPHIA. 



KAKL. 

The only one who loves yon. 

SOPHIA. 

Name him. 

KARL. 

Behold him at yonr feet ! 

SOPHIA. 

What mockery is this ? Mark me, Karl : I am a weak, 
friendless, unprotected girl. If your sex is strong, mine 
is resolute. Abandon your present designs— give up 
this useless suit, and cease to persecute the innocent. 

KARL. 

I have heard you! l^ow listen to me. You are my 
destiny. 

SOPHIA. 

Wretch ! 

KARL. 

I cannot and I will not live without you. To secure 
if not your love, at least the possession of your person, I 
have perilled everything. You are mine by right, and I 
will have my own ! 

SOPHIA. 

Yours by right ! — 

KARL. 

Yes! 

SOPHIA. 

What right? 



322 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act m. 

KAEL. 

Tlie king gave you to me. 

SOPHIA. 

I was not his to give. 

KAEL. 

Yon were his bondwoman. 

SOPHIA. 

And his bondwoman spurned you, as she ought ! 

KAKL. 

With scorn you did ! — I have not forgotten it ! 

SOPHIA. 

And does so now again. 

EAKL. 

You love another ! 

SOPHIA. 

I'll not deny it. 

EAEL. 

Torture ! {Draws Ms dagger?) 

SOPHIA {greatly terrified.) 
Karl, you would not stain this prison-floor with blood ! 

KARL. 

I would, to strike my rival's heart through yours ! — 
But words may make the blow unnecessary. {Puts wp 
his dagger) Hear me, Sophia, Till I saw you, I never 
felt the pangs of love ! — I never shed a tear ! From man- 
hood's early dawn, my savage nature could not brook 



reproof; nor friend nor foe had power over me. Your 
smile alone subdued this callous heart. Sophia, save 
me !— Save a repentant, wretched man ! 

SONG KAKL. 

^German air.) 

Once, mild and gentle was my heart ! 

My youth from guile was free ! 
But when love's bonds were torn apart, 

What joy had life for me? 
Ko words, no threats could daunt my soul. 
My reckless spirit spurned control 

Till swayed by smiles from thee ! 

A wanderer o'er the desert sand. 
An outcast on the sea. 

An exile from my native land — 
"What's all the world to me ? 

Each friend misfortune proved a foe : 

I scorned the high— despised the low- 
Till swayed by smiles from thee ! 

{At the conclusion of the song, enter, hy the secret door, 
Haeold with a carline, conducting in Albebt and 
"Wedgewood stealthily) 

HAEOLD {aside.) 
I knew that I was right. 



324 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act III. 

ALBERT {aside ^ 
Silence — on your lives ! 

WEDGEwooD (aside.) 
If it is convenient ! [They conceal themselves. 

SOPHIA. 

It is in vain ! 

KAEL. 

Then you must away with me this very night, this 
very hour, or perish here! (Karl advances and takes 
her hy the wrist. Albert keeps Wedgewood and Harold 
off-) 

S0PHL4.. 

Villain, forbear ! Oh, help me, Heaven ! 

KARL {drawing his dagger) 
You call in vain ! Your doom is sealed ! — Die ! {As 
he is about to stab Sophla., Wedgewood seises his arm.) 

WEDGEWOOD. 

You lie, you infernal scoundrel ! 

EARL. 

Ha! betrayed! — Have at you, then! {A struggle en- 
sues between Karl and Wedgewood, in which the former 
is overcome and thrown upon the ground. Sophl^. rushes 
into Albert's a7'ms in great agitation. Harold advances 
to the centre of the stage, and aims his carbine at KIarl. 
At the same moment, Wedgewood, who has had a desj)er- 
ate struggle with Karl, exclaims — ) 



Scene II.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 325 



WEDGEWOOD. 

Your dagger ! your dagger ! ( Wrests it from him) 
:N'ow yield, or (^\q\ — {Rises, places his foot upon Kael, 
and holds the dagger up) — If it is convenient! 

{Tableau. — Scene closes.) 

[Exit. 



SCENE II. 

Another cell in the Castle of Spandau. — Enter Count 
Laniska a7id Jailor. 

JAILOR. 

Count Laniska, you bear tlie king's commission, al- 
though a prisoner ; therefore, while I leave you to exam- 
ine these papers {hands papers) received from Mr. Wor- 
rendorf, I rely upon your honour not to attempt to escape. 

COUNT. 

Your confidence is not misplaced, believe me. [_Exit 
Jailor.] — {LooTis at ptcipers) My friend is unwearied in 
my cause. But I am a soldier, and have ever held my 
life at the disposal of the king. If Sophia were free and 
happy, I could look upon death with an undaunted spirit. 
{Puts up papers) How like an angel she appeared when 
last I gazed upon her heavenly face — now glistening 
with the tear, now radiant with the smile of beauty ! 



28 



326 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act IIL 

SONG LANISKA. 

The gentle bird on yonder spray, 
That sings its little life away ; 
The rose-bud bursting into flower, 
And glittering in the sun and shower ; 
The cherry-blossom on the tree — 
Are emblematic all of thee. 

Yon moon that sways the vassal streams, 

Like thee in modest beauty beams ; 

So shines the diamond of the mine, 

And the rock-crystal of the brine : 

The gems of heaven, the earth and sea, 

Are blended, all, dear maid, in thee ! 

[Exit. 



SCENE III. 



An Apartment in the Gallery of Paintings at Sans Souci. 
Enter Albert and Wedgewood in haste^ meeting the 
Countess Laniska. 

ALBERT. 

Have you seen the king? 

countess. 
His Majesty has not yet appeared. 



Scene III.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 327 

WEDGEWOOD. 

A crate of mouldy straw for your warlike government ! 
{Snaps his fingers) That for your soldierlike system of 
doing business ! I wouldn't give a broken basin for it ! 
Why, the commanding officer has only to say, "Hang 
me up that tall fellow, like a scarecrow," and up he goes 
— tzck! — or, "Give me that short chap the cat-o'-nine- 
tails," and, whack, he has it — or, "Shoot me yonder 
half-dozen specimens of humanity," and, bang, 'tis done! 
{Enter Fkedeeick, followed hy Hakold, unperoeived^ at 
the hack of the stage.) 

ALBERT. 

If the king would but listen to reason — 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Ay, but he won't ! I never saw such a resolute old 
curmudgeon ; and then he's so proud, too ! He's like a 
hard-baked, stone jar — he won't bend anyhow. I know 
why he gave me his snuff-box : it was because I hap- 
pened to help myself to a pinch out of the dirty old 
trumpery ! If he, or you, or all of you, by any chance 
happened to live in England, or any other civilized coun- 
try, this poor count and the girl too would have an im- 
partial hearing before they were condemned. 

COUNTESS. 

But under this government we have blessings unknown 
to yours — • 



328 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act m, 

^VEDGEWOOD. 

But me no bnts, madam ! Give me the blessings of 
living under a government where no man can be con- 
demned without a fair trial l)y jury, madam. To you 
Prussians, this is a matter of favour ; but to us English- 
men, it is a matter of right ! 

COUNTESS. 

Would to Heaven that my son and this poor girl could 
have such a trial ! — • 

ALBERT. 

And would to Heaven I might plead their cause! — 
{The King, who has paid great attention to their conver- 
sation, walks down the stage, and suddenly stands in 
the midst of them. They all start, and fall hacJc.) 

KING. 

On one condition you shall — 

OMNES. 

The king ! 

KING. 

On one condition, young man, your prayer shall be 
granted. 

ALBERT. 

ITame it, sire — 

KING. 

If you fail to convince the judges of their innocence, 
that you shall share their punishment. Do you agree ? 

ALBERT. 

T do, and set my life upon the issue. 



KING. 

Your life shall answer for it if you fail. {To Harold.) 
Give orders that the hall of the castle be immediately 
prepared for the trial. Use despatch, Harold ! {Exit 
Hakold.] — {To the Countess.) You, madam, I believe to 
be wholly ignorant of your son's treachery. 

COUNTESS. 

If he be guilty — 

KING {sarcastically) 
If he be guilty, madam ? 

COUNTESS. 



Yes, sire ; if he 


has forgotten what Your Majesty 


has 


done for Poland, 


tie is no son of mine ! 

KING. 




I shall spare you all the reflections I have made on 


the 


subject, madam. 


Tyrant as I am, I shall not punish 


the 


innocent mother for the guilty son. But perhaps 


this 


gentleman [Albert,] and your [Wedgewood] recommend- 


ed trial — 


WEDGEWOOD. 




Trial by jury ! 


Your Majesty has said it! There's 


freedom in the very words ! 






KING. 




How is it to be 


managed ? 

WEDGEWOOD. 




Managed, Your 


Majesty? Why, according to law 


and 


justice. 







28* 



330 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act EL 

KING. 

Good! 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Twelve honest, iipriglit, free and independent men are 
empanelled to hear the case — 



KING. 



Good again ! 



WEDGEWOOD. 

All the witnesses are examined, and all the testimony 
fairly summed up by learned counsel — 

KING. 

Excellent ! 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Then the grave expounders of the law — the judges — 
charge the jury, who, upon their oaths, return a ver- 
dict — 

KING. 

A glorious institution ! 

WEDGEWOOD. 

The shield and protection of the rights of man — the 
bulwark of civil and religious liberty — and the admira- 
tion of the whole civilized world ! Democratically odd ! 

KING. 

"Well — well — well — so justice be done, I care not for 
the means. 



Scene III.1 OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 331 

WEDGEWOOD. 

By jingo, lie 's genuine porcelain ! It 's all right — fair, 
square and above-board — a clear field and no favour! 

{Enter Hakold.) 

HAKOLD. 

Everything is in preparation. The judges are pro- 
ceeding to their seats ; the jury will soon be sworn, and 
the prisoners arraigned at the bar — 

WEDGEWOOD {to HAEOLD.) 

Who 's the crier of the court ? 

HAEOLD. 

That office is not yet filled. {^Exit. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

That won't do !— Illegally odd ! 

KING. 

Perhaps, Mr. "Wedgewood, you would like the appoint- 
ment yourself? 

WEDGEWOOD. 

If it is convenient. 

KING. 

I confer it upon you. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Thank Tour Majesty. By Jove, we're sailing with 
wind and tide — a smooth sea below and a clear sky 
above us ! 



332 THE MAID OF SAXOKY: [Act IIL 

KING. 

Well, gentlemen, I wish you a prosperous voyage ; but 
take care that you do not run your vessel upon the rocks 
of litigation, and founder among the quicksands of the 
law. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

No danger, Your Majesty, with such a pilot [Albekt.] 
— {Sudden and loud shouts and confused noise without. 
Drums heat to arms) What is the meaning of all this 
commotion ? 

{Enter Harold, in haste) 

KING. 

Out with it, Harold ! 

hakold. 
The rumour of the treachery and ingratitude of the 
prisoners has spread like wildfire throughout the city — 

KING. 

Well! — 

HAROLD. 

The populace are in a ferment at the indignity offered 
to our beloved monarch, and demand the instant execu- 
tion of the prisoners. 

KING. 

Well, well ; say on. 

HAROLD. 

The multitude crowd every avenue to the palace, and 



ScEafE III.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 33? 



the chateau of the countess ; and the royal guards are 
under arms to preserve the public peace. 

KING. 

So, so, so, so — 

COUNTESS. 

O Heaven ! what will become of us ? 

KING {jyroucUy.) 

Have you not the king's protection? I will appear 
among my children, who are so apprehensive about my 
safety, that they sometimes forget themselves, and be- 
come a little unruly. They will be satisfied when they 
hear and see their father, {Seeing the Countess looh de- 
jected) Do not droop, madam; your guilty son shall 
liave a fair and impartial trial. {Taking her hand. — To 
Albekt sternly) Look to it, sir; for if you fail, you 
know what follows! {Exit Feedekick and Countess. — 
Immense cheering and heating of drums without) 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Bravo ! He's a trump. — Bless me ! a po23ular commo- 
tion! — 1S.0 matter — I am crier of the court! Let me 
catch any of the little boys making a noise in the halls 
of justice — that's all ! I'll make the king himself mind 
his P's and Q's, if he dare to interfere with our grave 
deliberations! I will act as becomes my station. His 



334 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act IIL 

Majesty has a jewel in me, and I'll convince Mm tliat 
authority in my hands is a knock-down argument — so- 
fist-ically odd ! 

SONG — MTEDGEWOOD. 

That law 's the perfection of reason, 

No one in his senses denies ; 
Yet here is a trial for treason 

"Will puzzle the wigs of the wise. 
The lawyers who bring on the action 

On no single point will agree, 
Thougli proved to their own satisfaction 

That tweedle-dum 's not tweedle-dee ! 

To settle disputes, in a fury 

The sword from the scabbard we draw; 
But reason appeals to a jury, 

And settles — according to law. 
Then hey for the woolsack ! — for never 

"Without it can nations be free ; 
But trial by jury for ever ! 

And for tyranny — fiddlc-de-dee! 

[Exit. 



Scene IV.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 335 



SCENE THE LAST. 

Discovered. The whole stage is thrown open, and repre- 
sents the Hall of the Palace at Potsdam, arranged as a 
court-room. On a carpeted platform is the royal seat 
of state, occupied hy three Judges. On the right and 
left of them are cushioned seats for the King and his 
retinue, and Officers of state. In front of the judg- 
ment-seat is a large centre-table, on which are various 
law-hoohs and the Prussian Yase. Around the table 
are suitable places for the Advocates hi the cause. On 
each side are elevated benches, occupied by the Girls 
of the Factory, behind whom are stationed platoons 
of the Kojal Guards. At the end of the benches on 
the right is the jury-box, with twelve Jurors, and the 
desk of the Crier, on which is a small mallet. Around 
the whole stage is a large gallery, crowded with the 
Citizens of Potsdam. — The entire scene is intended to 
represent an English Criminal Court of Law of the 
olden time, in full costume, with scarlet robes, ermine 
gowns, (&c. — The following Characters are discovered 
in their respective places : Baron Altenbeeg, the At- 
torney-General and Advocate for the Crown; the 
Workmen of the Factory, as Witnesses; the Jailor, 
Hans, Gertrude, Harold and Corporal ; Count Lanis- 



336 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act IIL 

KA, guarded^ attended hy the Countess and Fkederica ; 
Sophia Mansfield, guarded, and attended ly Factory- 
Girls; Albekt, as Advocate for the Prisoners, and 
Wedgewood, as Crier of the Court j Officers of state^ 
Ladies of the Court, Porters of the Hall, and the King. 
— This scene is accompanied ly the Orcliestra. — Mu- 
sic as the scene opens — 

CHOKUS. 

With mercy let justice 

To mortals be given, 
For Justice and Mercy 

Are twin-born of heaven ! 

{As Baron Altenbeeg rises, "Wedgewood says, in a sub- 
dued tone of voice, and very respectfully) — 

wedgewood. 
Silence in the court ! 

ALTENBEEG. 

May it please your lordships, these facts are not de- 
nied : the inscription in the handwriting of the count ; 
his free access to the factory; his frequent use of the 
word tyrant when speaking of the king ; his earnest in- 
terest in the Saxon maid ; her love for the count, and 
her opposition to the will of our most gracious sovereign 
for allotting her to the overseer as his bride : and they 
all unite in establishing their crime, the punishment of 



Scene IV.] OK, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 337 

wliich is death. Had not His Majesty chanced to wipe 
oflf, witli bis own liandkercliief, the blue paint which con- 
cealed the word tyrant., the vase would have been sent 
to Paris, the king and people disgraced, and the crimi- 
nals safe in Saxony. Yes, gentlemen {1:o the Jury,) this 
splendid ornament, which is to be known to all future 
ages as " The Prussian Vase," is defaced with the trea- 
sonable inscription — "To Frederick the Great Tyrant." 
KING yrising in excitement^ and forgetting himself.) 
Yes, soldiers and subjects, friends and children, this 
word is applied to me — to your father — by these base 
ingrates here ! — 

CHOKUS. 

Shame, shame, shame ! 
Long live the king ! &c. 

WEDGEWOOD {in a commanding tone, and striking the desk 
loith his mallet.) 
Silence in the court, or I '11 put you in the stocks, juve- 
nile delinquents and all ! What an odd people ! 

KING. 

I beg the indulgence of your lordships for my infirmi- 
ties of temper. Let the cause proceed. {Takes his seat.) 

JUDGE. 

The case for the crown, gentlemen, is fully before you, 
and is submitted in the confidence that you will dis- 
charge your duty faithfully. 



338 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act IIL 

KING {again forgetting himself.) 
Ay, discliarge your duty faithfully ! 

WEDGEwooD {with great authority rajpjping on the desk.) 
Silence in the court, Your Majesty ! 

JUDGE. 

Let the counsel for the prisoners now proceed. 

ALBERT. 

Place Karl in the witness-box. 

{Enter Kakl and Harold.) 

SOLO AND CHOKUS. 
KAKL. 

What outrage more ? At whose command 
Am I thus shackled and restrained ? — 

What mockery 's this ? In this free land 
The subject's rights should be maintained. 

CHORUS. 

The traitor braves the king's command ! 

KARL. 

Those whom the lion would ensnare, 
Should of his reckless fangs beware ! 
The forest-monarch, held at bay. 
Will turn and spring upon his prey ! 

CHORUS. 

Thus bold will guilt full oft appear ! — 
The sword of Justice let him fear ! 



Scene IV.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 839 

WEDGEwooD {as KAKL is jploced m the wi^ess-hox.) 
Silence in the court ! 

CHORUS. 

"With mercy let justice 

To mortals be given ; 
For Mercy and Justice 

Are twin-born of heaven. 

KAKL. 

"Why am I summoned here against my will? 

ALBERT. 

You are here to answer, not to question, sirrah ! 

KARL. 

By what authority do i/ou command my answers ? In 
these realms the king alone commands. 

KING {again forgetting himself.) 
That's true — that's very true — the king alone com- 
mands — 

WEDGEwooD {shaking his mallet at the King.) 
What, Your Majesty — you will — will you? — 

KESTG. 

Oh, I have forgotten myself again ! {TaJces his seat.) 
Confound the fellow ! 

KARL {aside.) 
The king here? Then I have one friend at least on 



340 THE ]\IAID OF SAXONY: [Act IIT. 

whom I may rely. {To King.) Shall I — may I speak 
freely ? 

KING. 

The king has no authority now. {Pointing to thejury- 
hox.) There are the sovereigns of the people, and to them 
you must appeal. {Aside) What a situation for a mon- 
arch ! 

ALBERT {to KAKL.) 

You know yon Saxon maid and the Count Laniska ? 

KARL. 

I do, and hate the count. 

ALBERT. 

Wherefore ? 

KARL. 

He has thwarted my designs! — Ko, no, I mean not 
that! I mean that I hate him because he plotted treason 
against the king, and wrote " Tyrant" upon the vase. 

ALBERT. 

Did he write it ? 

KARL. 

He did — these eyes beheld him. 
COUNT {aside.) 
The perjured caitiff! 

sopmA. 
O Heaven, have mercy upon us ! 

COUNTESS. 

They are lost ! 



Scene IV.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? S4:i 



(Countess leans on Feederica. The King beckons to Har- 
old, who goes to him. They engage in earnest conver- 
sation^ occasionally pointing to Karl. Harold is sup- 
posed to he informing him of the arrest of Karl in 
Sophl^'s cell. Karl leaves the witness-box, and is about 
to retire ; but is stopped by Harold.) 

ALBERT. 

Call the German innkeeper to the stand. 

[Hans is placed in the box. 
KARL {aside.) 
I tremble with apprehension ! 

ALBERT {to HANS.) 

You deal in colours — do you not? 

HANS. 

Yaw, Mynheer. 

ALBERT. 

Have you sold any in Berlin lately ? 

HANS. 

Yaw, Mynheer ; I sold some of der Prussian blue to 
der Hungarian overseer of der factory, who gave me 
monish to say notting about it. He tried der quality 
upon dis little scrap of baper, vich he forgot, and vich I 
kept, mit der intention of giving him back ven I saw him 
again. It is scrawled all over mit der word " Tyrant:^ 

KARL {forgetting himself) 
That paper's mine — give it me! 



29* 



WEDGEWOOD {instantly snatching the pa^er and holding 
it up, exclaims in a loud tone) — 
It's not convenient ! {Hands the paper to Albert, who 
reads it to the Judges.) 

ALBERT. 

An attempt to imitate the handwriting of the count. 
Compare it with the word upon the vase. 

JUDGE. 

It is the same ! 

CHOEUS. 

Huzza! huzza! &c. 

WEDGEWOOD {forgetting himself, after the chorus has fin- 
ished, shouts out at the top of his voice,) Huzza! — 
{which the King observing, rises to call him to order / 
when Wedgewood, noticing the King, places his hand 
upon his own mouth / and looMng round, and holding 
his mallet in a threatening manner over Karl, who is 
silent, hy way of excusing his mistahe, says) — But si- 
lence in the court ! {The King, shaking his finger at 
Wedgewood, takes his seat ; Hans leaves the box.) 

albert. 
Place that workman on the stand. {It is done.) Did 
you ever see this vase before ? 

WORKMAN. 

Yes, sir. 



Scene IV.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 343 

ALBERT. 

Where? 

WOKKMAJSr. 

I saw Karl receive it for the furnace, and I saw him 
marking upon, it with a sharp instrument, which he sud- 
denly hid in his bosom. (Karl feels for his dagger, and 
half draws it, looking at Sophia ferociously. Sophia 
observes him na/rrowly, and with great apprehension.) 

ALBERT. 

Who took the vase from the furnace ? 

■WORKMAN. 

Karl. 

ALBERT. 

Who had possession of it afterward? 

WORKMAN. 

Karl. 

ALBERT. 

Who pointed out the word "Tyrant" to the king at 
the fete of the countess ? 

KING {rising with great emotion, and entirely forgetting 

himself^ 
Karl! 

ALBERT. 

Who has misled, blinded and deceived the king ? 

KING {loitJi great emotion^ 
Traitorous, fiendlike Karl ! 



344 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act IIL 

KAKL {aloud.) 
I am stunned witli horror ! 

ECNQ {lea/ving his seat, and coming down in great haMe — 
Wedgewood raises his hammer.) 

By your leave, Mr. "Wedgewood. 

CHORUS {as the king descends^ 
Long live the king ! &c. 

{The King tahes his station in the centre of the stage, and 
lifts his hat.) 

KING. 

If the court please — 

WEDGEWOOD {asidc.) 

Bravo ! His Majesty is becoming a principal witness. 

{In a subdued tone of voice.) Silence in the court! — The 

king speaks ! 

KING {rapidly.) 

I see it all ! The case is clear. Karl had my permis- 
sion to espouse Sophia. She refused him. Laniska loved 
her. Karl hated him, and planned her destruction ; vis- 
ited her in prison ; tried to force her to fly the coun- 
try with him ; she refused, and he would have slain 
her, had not Mr. "Wedgewood, the Advocate and Harold 
— who has just told me all — struck him to the ground. 
Karl plotted this mischief — Karl bought the paint — 
Karl wrote the word — and Karl shall die! 



Scene IV.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? ■ 345 



KAKL {draws his dagger.) 
But not unavenged! {He darts, toward ^ovmx, and 
makes an attempt to stab her. Sophia shriehs and runs 
to Laniska. All the Characters rise, greatly excited, and 
watch the scene with deep interest. The Guards present 
their pikes to the hreast of Kakl, who is seized hy Har- 
old and Corporal — in the hrief struggle with whom, 
Karl's shirtrsleeve is torn open, and the felon''s hrand 
is discovered on his arm. To this Albert points in tri- 
umph. — Tableau. — The whole action is instantaneous. 

HAROLD {with great eagerness) 
Behold, my liege, the felon's brand ! {Presto — all start 
with astonishment.) 

CHORUS. 

Now, who's the traitor? 

[^The Jurymen rise. 

QUINTETTE AND CHORUS. 
KARL. 

Tlie javelin from an unseen hand 
Was sent that laid me low ! — 
%■" Behold exposed the felon's brand 

Unto my mortal foe ! 

CHORUS. 

"Who's now the traitor? &c. 



346 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act III. 

JUDGE {prom^tly^ 
What say the jury ? 

roKEMAN {promjftly.) 
The prisoners are innocent! {Presto — all sta/rtwith, 
joy.) 

CHOEUS. 

The prisoners are innocent ! &c. 

{Some of the Characters clasp their hands — others em- 
brace. Sophia and Laniska turn to Albert, and the 
Conntess and Feedekica to the King, in gratitude.) 

KAEL. 

Oh, rage and fury ! (Kael is secured hy Harold and 
Corporal.) 

CHOEUS. 

Rejoice ! our loyal hearts we bring 
As free-will offerings to the king! 

SOLO SOPHLA. TO KING. 

Oh, let rae to thy ermine cling 

In gratitude {kneels.) God bless the king ! 

CHOEUS. 

God save the king ! 
Long live the king ! &c. 

{The Workmen and Girls of the Factory^ Advocates, 
Officers, Soldiers, Ladies and Gentlemen, Spectators, 
and all the Characters on the stage, indicate hy aj^jpro- 



Scene IV.] OR, "WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 347 



jpriate and sjyontaneous action the deep and intense 
interest they tahe in the verdict.— Kari. gasps and 
faints, and is supported hy Harold and Corporal. — 
Wedgewood notices the tableau with great self-compla- 
cency. — [The whole action is sitmdtaneous.'] — Karl 
is home off ly Harold and Corporal. All the Char- 
acters then turn, and hy looJcs and actions congratulate 
each other, o/nd the scene instantly hecomes one of gen- 
eral joy) 

KING, 

This court is now dissolved. {The principal Charac- 
ters leave their stations ; and all the Parties, except the 
Judges and those in the gallery, come upon the stage. — 
To the Judges.) Your lordships must pardon all irregu- 
larities. This is the first trial by Jury that ever took 
place in Prussia. Hereafter, no human power shall in- 
terrupt your grave deliberations. {To Count Laniska.) 
Count Laniska, I took your sword from you this morn- 
ing: I here present you mine. (Count kneels and re- 
ceives it.) 

COUNT. 

This, with my life, I dedicate to Your Majesty's ser- 
vice! 

KING {to ALBERT.) 

As for you, sir, the sword is not your weapon. (Har- 
old advances with a golden pen upon a velvet cushion. 



3i8 THE MAID OF SAXONY: [Act III. 

Albekt hneels.) Receive this emblem of far greater 
power than all the implements of war, and wield it for 
the benefit of mankind. Rise, Baron 

AI^ERT. 

Mansfield, Tour Majesty — 

KING {with surprise.) 
Mansfield ? 

SOPHIA. 

My heart was not deceived ! My long-lost brother ! 
ALBERT (albeet and SOPHIA rush into each other's arms.) 
My dear, dear sister ! 

KmG (J^ooTcing at them.) 
So, so, so ! Oh, what an old fool I have been ! {Look- 
ing around.) Come hither, Sophia. {She advances / the 
King takes her hand?) I owe you some amends for your 
long and patient suffering on my account {talcing the 
Count's hand) — and thus I make them. (Sophia and 
Laniska join hands joyfully) How well the criminals 
understand each other ! {Ruhhing his hands^ and walk- 
ing joyfully about the stage) Ah, Mr. "Wedgewood, I 
don't care if I take a pinch of snuff out of that same box 
I gave you the other day. 

WEDGEWOOD {presenting lox.) 
Your Majesty has added to its value a diamond worth 
all the rest, in finding it is large enough for two of us. 



Scene 1Y.] OR, WHO'S THE TRAITOR? 349 



KING. 

Good! {N'otices Feedeeica.) What! Frederica, my 
fair namesake and little god-daughter — in the dumps? 
{Looking at Albeet.) Oh, I understand. {To Countess.) 
Bj your leave, madam. {Hands Feedeeica to Albeet.) 
You perceive, Mr. Wedgewood, that I have a large fam- 
ily to look after and provide for; but I am a hai^jDy 
father, sir — mine are good children, very good children ! 
I wish I had more like these. 

WEDGEwooD {significantly.) 
If Your Majesty goes on in this way, there'll be jjlenty 
more — in time. 

KING. 

All are now satisfied — ^at least I hope all are so here. 
{To the audience) If, as a king, I may, on another occa- 
sion, command an audience — 

WEDGEWOOD {forgetting himself lifting his mallet and 
flourishing it like an auctioneer) — Going! {Recollect- 
ing himself.) — I mean — {slowly and with gravity) 

s-i-1-e-n-c-e i-n t-h-e c-o-u-r-t! {meaning the 

audience.) 

KING. 

These witnesses will, I am sure, attend the next trial 
of tlie Maid of Saxony — 

WEDGEWOOD. 

If it is convenient ! 



30 



350 THE MAID OF SAXONY. [Act IIL 

FINALE. 

Our hearts are bounding with delight ! 

'Tis Freedom's jubilee ! 
For right has triumphed over might — 
The bond again are free ! 
Hurrah ! — hurrah ! 

Let the welkin ring ! 
To Justice and Liberty 
Paeans we sing ! 

{Tableau. — Curtain falls.) 



END OF THE MAID OF SAXONY. 



NOTES. 



NOTES. 



Page 17. 

THE DESERTED BRIDE. 

This poem was written after seeing Miss Fanny Kemblb, 
for the first time, in one scene of " The Hunchback." 

Page 25. 

THE CROTON ODE. 

Written at the request of the Corporation of the city of 
New-York, and sung near the Park Fountain, by the members 
of the New-York Sacred Music Society, on the completion of 
the Croton Aqueduct, October 14, 1842. 

Page 35. 

WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE ! 

Riding out of town a few days since, in company with a 
friend, who was once the expectant heir of the largest estate in 
America, but over whose worldly prospects a blight has recently 



30* 



354 NOTES. 

come, he invited me to turn down a litlle romantic woodland pass 
not far from Bloomingdale. " Your object ?" inquired I. " Merely 
to look once more at an old tree planted by my grandfather, near 
a cottage that was once my father's." — "The place is yours, 
then ?" said I. " No, my poor mother sold it ;" and I observed a 
slight quiver of the lip, at the recollection of that circumstance. 
" Dear mother !'' resumed my companion, " we passed many 
happy, happy days, in that old cottage ; but it is nothing to me 
now — father, mother, sisters, cottage — all are gone!" — and a 
paleness overspread his fine countenance, and a moisture came 
to his eyes, as he spoke. After a moment's pause, he added : 
" Don't think me foolish. I don't know how it is, I never ride 
out but I turn down this lane to look at that old tree. I have a 
thousand recollections about it, and I always greet it as a famil- 
iar and well-remembered friend. In the by-gone summer-time 
it was a friend indeed. Under its branches I often listened to 
the good counsel of my parents, and had such gambols with my 
sisters ! Its leaves are all off now, so you won't see it to advan- 
tage, for it is a glorious old fellow in summer ; but I like it full 
as well in winter-time." These Avords were scarcely uttered, 
when my companion cried out, " There it is !" Near the tree 
stood, an old man, with his coat off, sharpening an axe. He was 
the occupant of the cottage. " AVhat do you intend doing ?" 
asked my friend with great anxiety. " What is that to you ?" was 
the blunt reply. " You are not going to cut that tree down, sure- 
ly ?" — "Yes, but I am though," said the woodman. "What 
for ?" inquired my companion, almost choked with emotion. 
" What for ? Why, because I think proper to do so. What for ? 
I like that! Well, I'll tell you what for. This tree makes my 
dwelling unhealthy ; it stands too near the house ; prevents the 



NOTES. 355 

moisture from exhaling, and renders us liable to fever-and-ague." 
— "Who told you that?"— "Dr. S * * *."— "Have you any 
other reason for wishing to cut it down ?" — "Yes, I am getting 
old ; the woods are a great way off, and this tree is of some 
value to me to burn." He was soon convinced, however, that 
the story about the fever-and-ague was a mere fiction, for there 
never had been a case of that disease in the neighbourhood ; 
and then was asked what the tree was worth for firewood. 
" Why, when it is down, about ten dollars." — " Suppose 1 make 
you a present of that amount, will you let it stand ?" — " Yes." — 
" You are sure of that ?" — " Positive." — " Then give me a bond 
to that effect." I drew it up ; it was witnessed by his daughter ; 
the money was paid, and we left the place with an assurance 
from the yoimg girl, who looked as smiling and beautiful as a 
Hebe, that the tree should stand as long as she lived. We re- 
turned to the road, and pursued our ride. These circumstances 
made a strong impression upon my mind, and furnished me with 
materials for the song I herewith send you. 

Extract fkom a Letter to Henry Russell, the Vocalist, dated New York, Feb- 
RUARy 1, 1837. 

Page 55. 

THE chieftain's PAUGHTER. 

" Every part of the brief but glorious life of Pocahontas is 
calculated to produce a thrill of admiration, and to reflect the 
highest honour on her name. The most memorable event of 
her life is thus recorded : After a long consultation among the 
Indians, the fate of Captain Smith, who was the leader of the 
first colony in Virginia, was decided. The conclave resumed 
their silent gravity. Two huge stones were placed near the 



356 NOTES. 

water's edge ; Smith was lashed to them, and his head was laid 
down, as a preparation for beating out his brains with war-clubs. 
Powhattan raised the fatal instrument, and the savage multitude 
with their blood-stained weapons stood near their king, silently 
waiting the prisoner's last moment. But Smith was not des- 
tined thus to perish. Pocahontas, the beloved daughter of the 
king, rushed forward, fell upon her knees, and, with tears and 
entreaties, prayed that the victim might be spared. The royal 
savage rejected her suit, and commanded her to leave Smith to 
his fate. Grown frantic at the failure of her supplications, Po- 
cahontas threw her arms about Smith, and laid her head upon 
his, her raven hair falling around his neck and shoulders, de- 
claring she would perish with or save him. The Indians gasped 
for breath, fearing that Powhattan would slay his child for taking 
such a deep interest in the fate of one he considered his dead- 
liest foe. But human nature is the same everywhere : the war- 
club dropped from the monarch's hand — his brow relaxed — 
his heart softened ; and, as he raised his brave daughter to his 
bosom, and kissed her forehead, he reversed his decree, and 
directed Smith to be set at liberty ! Whether the regard of this 
glorious girl for Smith ever reached the feeling of love, is not 
known. No favour was ever expected in return. ' I ask noth- 
ing of Captain Smith,' said she, in an interview she afterward 
had with him in England, ' in recompense for what I have done, 
but the boon of living in his memory.' John Randolph was a 
lineal descendant of this noble woman, and was wont to pride 
himself upon the honour of his descent. Pocahontas died in 
the twenty-second year of her age." — sketches of. Vibginia. 



NOTES. 357 



Page 61. 
SONG OF Marion's men. 

" Sallie St. Clair was a beautiful, dark-eyed Creole girl. 
The whole treasury of her love was lavished upon Sergeant 
Jasper, who, on one occasion, had the good fortune to save her 
life. The prospect of their separation almost maddened her. 
To sever her long, jetty ringlets from her exquisite head — to 
dress in male attire — to enroll herself in the corps to which he 
belonged, and follow his fortunes in the wars, unknown to him 
— was a resolution no sooner conceived than taken. In the 
camp she attracted no particular attention, except on the night 
before the battle, when she was noticed bending over his couch, 
like a good and gentle spirit, as if listening to his dreams. The 
camp was surprised, and a fierce conflict ensued. The lovers 
were side by side in the thickest of the fight ; but, endeavouring 
to turn away a lance aimed at the heart of Jasper, the poor girl 
received it in her own, and fell bleeding at his feet ! After the 
victory, her name and sex were discovered, and there was not a 
dry eye in the corps when Sallie St. Clair was laid in her grave, 
near the river Santee, in a g^een, shady nook, that looked as if 
it had been stolen out of Paradise." — Tales of Mabion's Men. 



Page 63. 

JANET MCREA. 

" We seated ourselves in the shade of a large pine-tree, and 
drank of a spring that gurgled beneath it. The Indians gave a 
groan, and turned their faces from the water. They would not 



358 NOTES. 

drink of the spring, nor eat in the shade of the tree ; but retired 
to a ledge of rocks at no great distance. I ventured to approach 
them and inquire the cause of their strange conduct. One of 
the Indians said, in a deep and solemn tone : ' That place is bad 
for the red-man ; the blood of an innocent woman, not of our 
enemies, rests upon that spot ! — She was there murdered. The 
red-man's word had been pledged for her safety ; but the evil 
spirit made him forget it. She lies buried there. No one 
avenged her murder, and the Great Spirit was angry. That 
water will make us more thirsty, and that shade will scorch us. 
The stain of blood is on our hands, and we know not how to 
wipe it out. It still rests upon us, do what we will.' I could 
get no more from them ; they were silent, even for Indians. It 
was the death of Miss McRea they alluded to. She was be- 
trothed to a young American by the name of Jones, who had 
taken sides with the British, and become a captain in their ser- 
vice. The lovers, however, had managed to keep up a corre- 
spondence ; and he was informed, after a battle in which he 
distinguished himself for his bravery, that his inamorata was 
concealed in a house a few miles from Sandy-Hill. As it was 
dangerous for him to go to her, he engaged a party of confiden- 
tial Indians to take his horse to her residence and bring her to 
his tent in safety. He urged her, in his letter, not to hesitate 
a moment in putting herself under their protection ; and the 
voice of a lover is law to a confiding woman. They proceeded 
on their journey, and stopped to rest under a large pine-tree 
near a spring — the one at which we drank. Here they were 
met by another party of Indians, also sent by the impatient lover, 
when a quarrel arose about her which terminated in her assas- 
sination. One of the Indians pulled the poor girl from her 



NOTES. 359 

horse ; and another struck his tomahawk into her forehead, tore 
off her scalp, and gashed her breast ! They then covered her 
body with leaves, and left her under the huge pine-tree. One 
of the Indians made her lover acquainted with the facts, and 
another brought him her scalp. He knew the long brown tres- 
ses of Miss McRea, and, in defiance of all danger, flew to the 
spot to realize the horrid scene. He tore away the thinly- 
spread leaves — clasped the still-bleeding body in his arms, and, 
wrapping it in his cloak, was about bearing it away, when he 
was prevented by his superior officers, who ordered the poor 
girl to be buried on the spot where she had been immolated. 
After this event a curse seemed to rest upon the red-man. In 
every battle their forces were sadly cut up — the Americans 
attacking them most furiously whenever they could get an op- 
portunity. The prophets of the Indians had strange auguries ; 
they saw constantly in the clouds the form of the murdered 
white woman, invoking the blasts to overwhelm them, and 
directing all the power and fury of the Americans to extermi- 
nate every red-man of the forest who had committed the hateful 
deed of breaking his faith and staining the tomahawk with the 
blood of a woman, whose spirit still called for revenge. It was 
agreed among the Indians in a body to move silently away ; and 
by morning's light not a red-man was to be found near the 
British troops. Captain Jones, too, was no more. In the battle 
he led on his men with that fearlessness and fury that distressed 
minds often do ; but his men grew tired of following him in such 
perilous attacks, and began to fly. As he returned to rally them 
he received a ball in his back. Burning with shame, love and 
frenzy, he turned and threw himself on the bayonets of the 
enemy, and at once closed his agonies and expiated his political 



S60 NOTES. 

offence. He was laid by the side of lier he had so ardently- 
loved and deeply lamented." — Kvents of the revolution. 

* 

Page 70. 

They Ve gone with my last shilling. 
"This is a fact, and no poetic fable." — Bvbon. 

Page 70. 

Flui'ence's Saloon. 

A MUCH-FREQUENTED restaurant in Broadway. 

Page 70. 
Sunny -Side. 
The country residence of Washington Irving. 

Page 71. 
The luxury of wo. 
W-h-o-a ! 

Page 72. 
A wheel rigged for a tiller. 

A PECULIARITY of Commodore Christopher B. Miller's yacht, 
" The Ultea." 



NOTES. 261 



Page 73. 
Long live the valiant Mai/or ! 

" If you want me," said His Honour, at the Astor-Place riots, 
on the evening of the 10th of May, 1849, "you will find me — 
at the New-York Hotel T 

Page 133. 

THE PRAIRIE ON FIRE. 

This ballad is founded, in part, upon a thrilling story of the 
West, related by Mr. Cooper, the novelist. 



Page 155. 

THE sweep's carol. 

Written to be sung in character, for the purpose of intro- 
ducing the wild, peculiar and well-known cry or carol of the 
sweeps of New-York. 

Page 187. 

the fallen brave of MEXICO. 

Written, at the request of the Corporation of the city of 
New-York, for the funeral solemnities to Lieutenant-Colonel 
Baxter, Captains Barclay and Pierson, and Lieutenants 
Chandler and Gallagher, of the New-York Volunteers, who 
died upon the battle-fields of Mexico. Sung by the members 
of the New-York Sacred Music Society, on Wednesday, the 
12th day of July, 1848, in front of the City Hall. 



362 NOTES. 



Page 191, 

THE CHAMPIONS Of LIBERTY. 

Written, at the request of the Common Council of the city 
of New- York, for the funeral solemnities in honour of the gal- 
lant and lamented Major-General Worth, Colonel Duncan, and 
Major Gates, late of the United States army. Sung by the 
Sacred Music Society in the balcony in front of the City Hall, 
Thursday, November 15, 1849. 

Page 213. 
the soldier's welcome home. 

Sung at the New- York Tabernacle, on the evening of April 
18, 1849, by Mr. Nash, with a chorus of a thousand voices. 

Page 215. 

the origin of YANKEE DOODLE. 

This jeu d''esprit was written for and sung by the Hutchin- 
son Family. 

Page 221. 

NEW-YORK IN 1826. 

This address, which has a local interest, is republished at the 
request of several of the author's friends — one of whom "de- 
sires to preserve it as one of the curiosities of rhyme ;" and 
another " as a picture of New- York, and its belongings, a quar- 
ter of a century ago." 



NOTES. 363 

Page 221. 

STANZA I. 

" S. W." are the initials of my much-lamented friend, the late 
Samuel Woodworth, Esq. 

She ichispers of coaches, 
And lockets and broaches — 
refers to the holiday-presents in vogue at the time. 

Page 222. 

STANZA ir. 

contains the name of an institution whose failure created great 
consternation in Wall-street. 

Page 222. 

STANZA IV. 

Gas-light was introduced into New- York about that period, 
and the gas-burners were formed in the shapes here mentioned. 

Page 223. 

STANZA V. 

Seats on the Battery. 

At the time alluded to there were none ; and there was in- 
cessant warfare between the press and the lessees of Castle 
Garden, which was finally settled by the interposition of the 
Common Council, who caused seats to be placed on the Battery 
for the accommodation of the public. 



364 NOTES. 



Page 223. 

STANZA VI. 

This stanza contains the names of the fashionable poets and 
editors of the day. 

Page 223. 

STANZA VII. 

Lafayette visited New-York during the administration of 
Governor Clinton. The stanza also alludes to the then-recent 
completion of the Erie Canal, and to the troubles in Greece, 
which occupied much of the public attention. 

Page 224. 

STANZA VIIl. 

The Bowery Theatre was built in 1826. 

Page 225. 
stanza X. 

The Garcia troupe were then performing at the Park Thea- 
tre, and they were the first that produced Italian operas in this 
country. The Kean riot had recently occurred. 

Page 225. 
stanza XI. 

Names of the Museums and other shows, giants and Indians 
being then their principal attractions. 



Page 225. 

STANZA XII, 

Descriptive of the manner in which the New Year was 
ushered in. 

Page 226. 

STANZA XIII. 

The " New- York Mirror" was one of the earliest periodi- 
cals devoted to American letters. 

Page 247. 

THE MAID OF SAXONY. 

This Opera was first performed at the Park Theatre, on the 
25th of May, 1842, and ran fourteen successive nights. It was 
entirely and completely successful, being nightly received with 
cheers. 



THE END. 






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